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LIBRARY 

.v«r«ry    01 

IRVINE 


She  put  her  bare  arms  around  his  neck   and   begged   him 
to   come   again    soon. 


THAT   MAN  FROM 
WALL  STREET 

A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 


BY 


RUTH  EVERETT 


Author  of  "Sowing  to  the  Flesh;  "  "The  Sin  of  Sebastian 
Sackett;  "  "The  Raphael  Bigamy  Case; "  "A  Pretty 
Penitent;"  "The  Civilizing  of  Jasper  Bullard;" 
"Against  This  Nation,  "  Etc. 


GEORGE  THIELL  LONG,  Publisher 

400  Manhattan  Avenue 

NEW  YORK 


VM.S 


COPYRIGHT,  1908  BY 
GEORGE  THIELL  LONG 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

I.      Is  Life  a  Dream  or  Nightmare?        -        -        -    13 

II.      In  the  Parlors  of  the  Morton  House  To-night 

at  Nine— Will 28 

III.  Let  Me  Help  You  When  and  How  I  Can.    You 

Will  Need  Some  One  on  Whom  to  Rely    -    38 

IV.  Is  Friendship  Merely  a  Term  Used  to  Express 

an  Abstract  Idea,  Possessing  no  Concrete 
Realty?  -          -          -    48 

V.      The  Prince,  the  Pirate,  the  Lieutenant          -    52 
VI.      A  Shadow  is  Cast  -     63 

VII.  To  Lighten  the  Load  She  Threw  Her  Hand 
some  Lieutenant  Overboard  -  76 

VIII.       The  "Banker,"  Mauch  Chunk,  The  Captain  of 

the  "Grant"  -  -  85 

IX.       Now,  if  That  Centurion  Had  Been  a  Captain  in 

the  Navy—  101 

X.      'Tis   Thus   They're   Taught  to  Woo   on   Wall 

Street  -      112 

XI.  Love  from  Every  Heart  and  Hand,  But  Not  the 
Smallest  Token  from  the  Man  for  Whose 
Sake  She  Had  so  Nearly  Tasted  Death  -  123 

XII.      Are    Gentlemen   Then    so    Scarce?        -          -    138 

XIII.  There  Are  as  Many  Different  Grades  of  Love 

as  There  Are  Men  and  Women  Who  Feel 

It  147 

XIV.  A  Constant  Stream  of  Hypnotic  Power  Exuded 

from  Every  Pore  of  My  Skin          -          -     156 

XV.  Had  I  Known  of  Your  Love  in  Time  I  Would 
Not  Have  Trespassed.  But  it  is  Too  Late 
Now  -----  170 

II 


CONTENTS 


Chapter 
XVI. 

XVII. 
XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 
XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 
XXVIII. 

XXIX. 
XXX. 

XXXI. 


Page 

How  Much  "Water"  it  Takes  to  Make  a  Rail 
road    Cost   Nothing   a   Mile  •        179 

How  a  Naval  Officer  Justified  Himself    -        -    186 
The  Collateral  Upon  Which  the  "Prince"  Got 


His   Sweets   on    Credit 


194 


"She  Was  Forced  to  Set  Her  Own  Feelings 
Down  as  a  Mystery,  Inexplicable  Even  to 
Herself"  -  -  -  205 

The  Pump  at  Both  Ends  -      214 

"The  Saddest  of  it  All  is  This:  That  no  One 
on  Earth  Does  Know,  or  Ever  Can  Know 
Me"  -  -  -  -  -  222 

How  the  "Prince"  Worked  up  a  Corner  and  a 

"Bull"  Market  -    230 

And  God  Made  Man  in  His  Own  Image  and 

Likeness  -  -    240 

The  Glass,  the  Lizard  and  the  Paster        -        255 
There  is  Hope  for  Her  -     265 

"She's  Mine — Every  Bit  of  Her.    I  Persevered 

and    I   Got   Her"  -    276 

The    Sting    Ray  -     288 

The   Subjective   Likeness   and   the   Objective 

Pastel  ••',-'  -  -    302 

"Oh,  Adrian!   Adrian!"  -      316 

Observe  How  Well-Defined  and  Clear-Cut  Are 

the  Lines  in  the  Subjective  Likeness        -     332 

We  Still  Dwell  in  Your  Midst;  But  Here  Pre 
sent  Ourselves  to  You  for  a  Last  Farewell    351 


12 


CHAPTER    I. 
"  Is  Life  a  Dream  or  a  Nightmare?  " 

"  Keeping  shop  all  alone,  Ned?" 

"  Well,  yes.  I've  been  enjoying  my  own  sweet 
thoughts  for  an  hour  or  so.  " 

"  Where  are  Nell  and  '  Bronze'  ?  " 

"  Nell  went  to  take  home  a  lot  of  work,  and  col 
lect  some  money  due  her ;  '  Bronze '  has  gone  driving. 
The  girls  went  out  together.  Nell  told  me  to  say  she 
would  not  be  back  to  the  studio  today,  as  she  wished 
to  do  some  shopping;  but  she  would  be  home  to 
dinner.  '  Bronze  '  laughed  and  said  'Tell  Ola  that,  so 
far  as  the  dinner  is  concerned,  I  think  I  can  do  better ; 
but  I'll  most  likely  be  catalogued  among  the  chickens 
and  bad  pennies  sometime  between  this  and  sunrise.' " 

"  Happy  '  Bronze':  She  has  plenty  of  money,  and 
she  never  thinks.  I  could  not  possibly  fancy  a  com 
bination  more  conductive  to  longevity.  But,  Ned, 
don't  you  think  '  Bronze  '  the  personification  of  '  La 
mollesse  d'une  vie  effeminee? ' 

"  Yes,  she  seems  to  loll  through  life  on  downy 
beds  of  ease. " 

"  She  has  the  loveliest  disposition  of  anything  in 
the  shape  of  frail  flesh,  I  ever  saw  in  my  life;  she  is 
always  agreeable,  tender-hearted,  charitable,  obliging. 
I  never  heard  her  say  a  word  of  harm  of  any  body. 

13 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

Sorrows  which  she  cannot  relieve,  she  flies  from. 
There  are  times  when  I  feel  dreadfully  ultra-marine. 
Then  I  am  apt  to  go  into  my  little  room  and  close 
the  doors.  If  Nell  happens  to  be  in  the  house  at 
those  times  when  memories  crowd  upon  me,  she  and 
'Bronze'  avoid  the  'quarantined  quarter' — for  that's 
what  'Bronze'  calls  my  little  room — until  I  feel  better 
and  come  forth ;  but  if  '  Bronze '  is  in  the  flat  alone 
with  me,  I  can  hear  her  walking  aimlessly  up  and 
down  the  halls,  in  and  out  of  the  parlor,  and  the 
other  rooms,  for  a  short  time;  then  she  dons  her 
street  attire  and  sallies  forth  into  the  sunshine — for 
it's  sunshine  for  'Bronze'  where  there  are  no  long 
faces,  even  if  it's  teeming  rain.  I  often  envy  her.  " 

"  I  don't  think  you  have  occasion ;  of  the  two  dis 
positions  I  should  prefer  yours,  "  said  Ned,  and  he 
looked  at  Ola  in  a  candid,  respectful,  brotherly  way ; 
just  as  though  he  had  a  right  to  love  and  admire 
her,  and  to  speak  of  his  appreciation  of  her  without 
let  or  hindrance. 

Ola  laughed  softly  and  said,  "  Ah,  Ned,  I  am  afraid 
you  will  not  get  many  contracts  to  select  dispositions 
for  the  trade.  You  are  a  poor  judge  of  what  sort  of 
tempers  and  temperaments  it's  comfortable  to  bide 
wi'" 

St.  Claire  laughed  and  blushed  a  little.  He  always 
blushed  when  he  felt  called  upon  to  defend  himself. 
"  I  am  not  going  to  have  you  challenging  my  talents 
unless  you  are  willing  to  admit  that  I  might  be 
at  least  mediocre,  were  you  not  a  competitor,  "  said 
he. 

14 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  I  have  too  much  good  sense  to  compete  with 
'Bronze'  in  anything,  "  said  Ola. 

"  Then  I  must  adhere  to  my  original  statement 
and  say  that  of  the  two  dispositions  I  prefer  yours.  " 

"  Might  one  ask  why?"  said  Ola. 

"  Certainly;  in  the  first  place  I  think  it  would  be 
about  as  impossible  to  awaken  a  concentrated  sen 
timent  in  Miss  Hilton  as  it  would  be  to  vivify  a  Venus, 
cast  in  bronze — " 

"Oh,  now  you  are  unjust;  Georgia  is  all  tender 
ness  to  everybody,  "  broke  in  Ola  impetuously  and  em 
phatically,  with  more  desire  to  defend  her  friend, 
than  to  heed  the  rules  of  politeness. 

Ignoring  alike  the  interruption,  the  impetuosity, 
and  the  strong  emphasis,  the  man  quietly  continued : 
"  To  the  extent  of  the  woman's  capacity,  yes ;  but 
she  has  little  if  any  more  love  for  one  person  than  for 
another.  I  don't  know  that  you  ever  did  love  a 
man,  but  you  have  the  capacity ;  and  if  a  lazzarone  on 
the  street  corner  really  had  your  love,  a  Prince  of 
Bourbon  could  not  seduce  you  from  your  hut.  " 

"  Good  heavens,  am  I  such  an  idiot  as  that?  "  said 
Ola,  but  she  felt  pleased. 

"  That  is  my  estimate  of  you,  but  I  think 
'Bronze'  is  so  fond  of  the  admiration  of  men  that  she 
could  not — now,  mark  you,  I  mean  she  could  not,  and 
not  that  she  would  not — be  satisfied  if  all  human  per 
fections  could  be  concentrated  in  one  perfect  man, 
and  that  man  should  worship  her.  I  do  not  think  she 
would  be  true  to  any  man.  " 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  any  man  on  earth  who  is 
15 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

worth  it?"  said  Ola,  and  she  shut  her  teeth  a  little 
tightly  and  looked  down  at  a  wolf-skin  rug  on  the 
floor,  with  a  sort  of  bitter  expression  on  her  face, 
and  a  slight  squint  in  her  eyes;  then  she  sighed  faint 
ly  and  looked  up  at  Ned,  who  had  paused  to  let  these 
small,  unpleasant,  thought-ripples  relapse  into  a 
smooth  surface. 

"  Perhaps  not,  "  he  answered,  "  but  '  Bronze  ' 
would  accept,  enjoy,  encourage,  attention  from  the 
lover  of  her  best  friend — yours,  for  instance,  if  you 
had  one.  " 

"  And  the  man,  what  would  he  do?  " 
"  Oh,  most  promptly  and  properly  fall  a  victim  to 
the  charms  of  her  voluptuousness,  I  suppose.     What 
do  you  expect  of  a  man?  "    said  Ned. 

"  Nothing,  "  Ola  replied  with  a  vigorous,  bitter 
accent. 

"  Are  you  ever  disappointed  in  your  expecta 
tions?  "  said  Ned. 

"  So  far  as  men  are  concerned,  do  you  mean?" 
"  Yes,  did  you  ever  meet  a  noble  man?" 
The  woman  shook  her  head  sadly;  there  was  a 
settled,  mournful  expression  in  her  face.  "  I  am  not 
wearing  out  any  more  shoes  going  on  pilgrimages  in 
search  of  noble  men,  Ned.  I've  crossed  that  Rubicon 
and  burned  my  ships  behind  me.  There  are  honest 
men  in  this  world,  plenty  of  them,  thank  God ! 
— pardon  the  expression,  please,  and  attribute  its  use 
to  a  desire  to  be  emphatic,  rather  than  as  a  confession 
of  faith.  Yes,  there  are  honest  men  in  this  world,  and 
when  my  fate  is  cast  among  them,  I  am  more  than 

16 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

content.  I  am  neither  searching  for  nobility,  nor  do  I 
believe  in  it,  except  as  a  figure  of  speech,  and  as  a 
comparative  term,  serviceable  in  rhetoric.  " 

"  Then  you  think  man  incapable  of  rising  above 
commercial  honesty?"  said  Ned,  and  in  the  look  he 
gave  Ola,  there  was  a  slight  plea  that  she  would  con 
fess  a  little  faith  in  his  sex. 

It  was  only  in  his  look  and  inflection,  not  in  the 
words;  and  she  either  did  not  know  it  was  there, 
or  she  chose  to  ignore  it,  for  she  said :  "  I  am 
happy  to  say  that  my  knowledge  of  the  sex 
is  too  limited  to  permit  me  to  give  an  opinion  as  to 
what  they  are  capable  of  rising  above.  I  only  know 
that  of  those  with  whom  I  am  acquainted,  some  are 
honest ;  most  are  not.  I  have  read  of  noble  men,  I 
never  saw  one.  Look,  for  instance,  at  the  case  of 
'Bronze.'  When  she  was  young,  innocent,  full  of 
faith,  Captain  Gordon  met  her,  wooed  her,  and,  as  she 
believed,  married  her — " 

"  Oh,  well,  we  have  to  overlook  such  little  irregu 
larities  in  sea  captains,  "  said  Ned,  in  his  turn  for 
getting  that  it  is  not  polite  to  interrupt  a  speaker. 

"  I  do  not  extend  to  him  any  charity  because  he  is, 
or  was  at  one  time,  a  sea  captain ;  for  I  believe  him 
to  be  neither  better  nor  worse  than  the  average  man. 
There  is  even  a  spark  in  the  man  which  one  must  ad 
mire.  He  called  at  the  house  one  day  to  see 
'Bronze'  when  she  was  out;  got  quite  confidential 
with  me,  and  talked  without  reserve  of  the  'injury'  he 
had  done  the  girl.  Said  he  to  me :  'In  the  days  when 
I  first  became  enamoured  of  Georgia,  and  was  deter- 

17 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

mined  to  possess  her,  it  became  necessary  for  me  to 
do  one  of  two  things:  I  must  either  seduce  her,  and 
thus  lay  the  foundation  for  her  to  disrespect  and  pos 
sibly  despise  herself,  some  day;  or  I  must  go  through 
a  form  of  marriage  with  her ;  and,  in  so  doing,  give  her 
the  satisfaction  of  thinking  me  a  damned  rascal.  I 
chose  the  latter. '  '  But  you  took  the  chance  of  the 
state  prison, '  said  I,  'for  you  know  the  Captain  is  a 
married  man. '  '  Yes, '  he  replied,  '  I  did.  When  she 
came  to  know  the  wrong  I  had  done  her,  I  wanted  her 
to  realize  also  how  much  I  had  loved  her.'  " 

"And  this  is  not  nobility?"  said  Ned,  looking  at 
Ola  as  though  she  had  convicted  herself. 

"  Only  a  slight  aspiration  that  way,  Ned.  Those 
little  divine  sparks  fly  off  from  even  the  worst  of  us,  at 
times.  But  any  continuous  nobility  in  man,  or  wo 
man  either,  for  that  matter,  because  the  only  dif 
ference  between  them  is  in  sex,  is  what  I  deny.  The 
Captain  is  not  a  noble  man.  He  gives  'Bronze'  a  gen 
erous  allowance,  true  enough,  and  he  knows  she  has 
plenty  of  attention  from  other  sources;  but,  do  you 
fancy  he  would  endure  this  state  of  affairs  if  he  were 
not  obliged  to?  Not  by  any  means.  To  use  a  slang 
expression — she's  got  him  foul,  and  he  knows  it.  If 
he  dared,  he  would  say,  '  My  beauty  you  devote  your 
self  to  me  and  to  your  art,  or  no  allowance.'  If  he 
were  truly  noble  he  would  say  to  her,  'My  girl,  be 
happy  if  you  can.  Of  course  I  suffer,  in  knowing  you  are 
surrounded  by  flatterers;  but  leave  that  to  me.  I  de 
serve  it.  No  matter  what  you  do,  or  to  what  depth  of 
degradation  you  sink,  while  I  have  a  dollar,  you  may 

18 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

call  upon  me  for  at  least  half.'  Instead  of  this  most 
desirable  condition  of  affairs,  it  has  been  necessary,  in 
the  past,  for  '  Bronze  '  to  have  her  lawyer  write  him  a 
letter.  Give  it  up,  Ned;  there  is  nothing  perfect  on 
earth  except  me,  and  the  knowledge  of  that  fact  is  not 
very  widely  circulated.  Ah,  me,  what  a  tiresome 
world!" 

Ola  arose  and  began  looking  over  some  samples 
of  low  grade  art,  in  the  way  of  labels,  which  the 
printers  had  reproduced  from  her  designs.  "  Did  you 
ever  notice,  Ned,  what  a  fat,  purple,  apoplectic  look 
the  printers  always  give  to  the  tomatoes  ?  "  and  she 
laughed  as  she  held  up  a  label  for  a  tomato  can. 

"  The  fear  would  be  that  they  might  superinduce 
gout  instead  of  cancer, "  said  Ned. 

"  Oh,  I  tell  you,  I  am  so  sick  and  tired  of  this 
work.  How  I  would  like  to  get  out  of  it!  The 
fishes  on  the  salmon  cans  look  as  if  they  couldn't  by 
any  possibility  belong  to  the  vertebrate  animals 
the  asparagus  comes  out  a  most  unwholesome 
green,  which  makes  one  suspect  that  it  was  cooked  in 
a  copper,  or,  rather,  a  brass  kettle;  the  corn  is  stiff, 
precise,  uninviting-looking — worse  even  than  that 
which  has  been  boiled  for  hours  in  cheap  restaurants ; 
blue  cherries  on  lamp  shades,  brown  roses  on  tea 
cups  and  saucers.  Oh,  art,  to  what  depths  of  defile 
ment  are  thou  condemned!"  said  Ola,  and  she  looked 
tired,  and  worn,  and  unsatisfied. 

"  Titian  painting  signs  for  a  hair  store,  and 
Spenser  writing  verse  to  advertise  a  summer  excur 
sion,  is  it?"  said  Ned. 

19 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"  Perhaps  not  quite  as  bad  as  that,  but  I  am 
awfully  discontented  with  my  work;  tired  of  it,  tired 
of  my  friends,  tired  of  myself,  "  she  said,  and  she  still 
looked  with  disgust  on  the  tomato  can  label. 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  put  an  end  to  all  this  weari 
ness?" 

"  Pray  tell  me  how  I  may  do  so,  and  I  promise 
you  I  shall  lose  no  time.  " 

"  You  can  rid  yourself  of  your  friends,  by  being 
systematically  'not-at-home,'  and  of  yourself  and  your 
work  at  one  and  the  same  time,  by  marrying  the 
'Banker.'  " 

The  woman  laughed  a  low,  musical  laugh,  as 
though  she  were  amused  through  and  through ;  and 
then  she  said,  "  I  am  afraid,  Ned,  that  would  be  a 
change  but  not  an  improvement.  Now,  I  might  learn 
to  endure  that  Yankee  nasal  twang ;  I  might  become 
quite  reconciled  to  hearing  him  say :  '  I  went  up  the 
rud  (road)  becus  (because)  I  wanted  to  see  a  man'; 
and  to  the  fact  that  he  could  not  pronounce  an  "r,"  at 
the  end  of  a  word,  if  hanging  were  the  punishment 
for  the  crime ;  but,  good  grief !  just  think  of  having  to 
walk  through  life  with  a  man  who  turns  in  his  toes. " 
And  again  she  laughed  at  the  very  thought  of  the 
Boston-bred  banker. 

"Then  why  not  rid  yourself  of  him  altogether? 
Why  keep  the  poor  wretch  hoping?  " 

"  To  answer  your  last  query  first,  I  am  not  losing 
any  sleep  in  pitying  him.  He'll  recover.  Never  fear ; 
they  all  do.  'Men  have  died  from  time  to  time,  and 
worms  have  eaten  them,  but  not  for  love.'  Now,  as 

20 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

to  why  I  don't  rid  myself  of  him — if  the  Lord  knows, 
then  somebody  does;  but  I  am  sure  I  don't.  I 
suppose  I  am  human  enough,  woman  enough,  to  be 
affected  by  the  knowledge  that  no  matter  how  many 
of  his  invitations  I  refuse,  upon  the  plea  of  fatigue, 
he  will  renew  the  attack  within  fifteen  days. " 

"  Then  you  do  appreciate  love,  even  where  you 
can't  return  it?"  said  Ned,  and  he  seemed  rather 
anxious  that  she  should  give  a  direct  answer  to  his 
question. 

But  he  was  doomed  to  disappointment,  for  she 
laughingly  said,  "Love?  Who  is  sacrilegious  enough 
to  apply  the  sacred  term  of  love  to  the  feeling  that 
man  has  for  me  ?  " 

"What  is  it,  then?" 

"  Nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  desire  to  enter 
into  peaceable  possession  and  enjoyment  of  the  per 
sonal  property  known  to  the  world  as  Mrs.  Ola  Del.  " 

"  Exactly,  and  that  is  love,  "  said  St.  Claire. 

"  I  can't  agree  with  you  there,  Ned.  I  know  most 
people  do.  But,  by  some  peculiarity  of  my  organiza 
tion,  the  greedy  look  which  would  delight  most  wo 
men,  only  disgusts  me.  " 

"  But  you  walk  up  and  take  a  voluntary  dose  of 
this  '  disgust '  every  once  in  a  while,  "  said  Ned,  as 
though  he  were  entering  a  protest. 

"  Yes,  I  do,  and  I  have  often  wondered  why 
toxicologists  frequently  try  their  own  poisons  on 
themselves.  The  effect  various  people  have  upon  my 
nerves,  has  always  been  of  interest  to  me.  I  respect 
the  'Banker'  but  I  do  not  love  him.  If  I  intended 

21 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

to  marry,  which  I  do  not,  I  could  not  wed  that  man,  if 
he  could,  and  would,  give  me  Manhattan  Island ;  so  I 
suppose  I  shall  go  on  making  'apopletic  tomatoes,' 
'  until  my  summons  comes  to  join  the  innumerable 
caravan. '  I  do  not  object  to  work,  but  I  would  like 
something  into  which  I  could  put  my  heart.  There  is 
an  inborn  feeling  in  all  who  breathe,  to  live  as  long 
as  possible.  Even  those,  who,  like  myself,  have  given 
up  the  fond  delusion  of  immortality,  would  still  like  to 
leave  a  track  behind  them  after  they  are  resolved  to 
earth  again.  The  artist  would  leave  a  canvas  that  tra 
velers  would  go  thousands  of  miles  to  see,  or  a  beauti 
ful  figure  chiseled  from  marble  or  moulded  in  bronze ; 
the  writer  would  leave  a  romance  of  which  the  com 
ing  ages  would  not  weary;  the  poet,  an  idyl;  the 
musician,  a  harmonious  score;  those  who  have  noth 
ing  better,  would  make  amends  for  their  own  errors 
by  guiding  their  children  aright.  If  but  a  mere  spark 
of  heavenly  ambition  be  within  the  soul,  to  work  at  a 
craft  whose  pursuit  means  failure  as  far  as  any  per 
sonal  recognition  or  fame  is  concerned,  to  know  that 
one  must  grind  on  and  on,  day  after  day,  and  see 
one's  effort  sink  as  hopelessly  out  of  sight  as  water 
poured  upon  the  sands  of  a  desert — that  is  indeed  soul- 
sickening.  " 

"  But  you  get  all  the  actual  and  necessary  comfort 
there  is  in  life  from  your  work, "  said  Ned. 

"  That  depends  entirely  upon  what  you  deem  the 
actual  and  necessary  comforts  of  life.  To  me  the  sub 
jective  is  just  as  actual,  just  as  necessary  as  the  ob 
jective — more  so  even — for  the  real,  the  actual,  the 

22 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

tangible,  has  about  all  the  bloom  rubbed  off.  I  some 
times  think  the  only  real  things  in  life  are  those  we 
dream,  those  for  which  we  work  and  wait  and  hope. 
In  my  dreams  I  never  see  'apoplectic  tomatoes.'  In  my 
nightmares  I  frequently  do. " 

"  Is  life  a  dream  or  a  nightmare?" 

These  words  were  spoken  by  a  masculine  voice, 
evidently  coming  from  the  door  of  entrance  into  the 
studio  from  the  main  hall  of  the  building.  Both  Ned 
St.  Claire  and  Ola,  who  had  been  standing  at  a 
table  with  their  backs  towards  the  door,  busy  looking 
over  some  prints,  turned  suddenly  around.  Ola's  pale 
face  blanched  to  a  death-like  whiteness ;  with  both 
hands  she  rubbed  her  black  curls  back  from  her  fore 
head  in  a  dazed  sort  of  way,  gave  a  moan,  as 
if  stricken  with  a  sudden  and  mortal  agony,  and  fell 
fainting  to  the  floor. 

Stepping  lightly  into  the  studio,  the  gentleman 
whose  words  had  caused  this  mischief,  knelt  by  the 
side  of  Ola,  held  her  hand  a  moment  in  his,  arose, 
brushed  the  dust  off  his  knees,  took  a  card  out  of  his 
pocketbook,  wrote  a  few  words  on  it,  and,  having  laid 
the  card  on  the  table,  said  to  St.  Claire,  "  The  lady  is 
evidently  over- worked  and  nervous;  but  do  not  be 
alarmed,  she  is  only  in  a  faint ;  she  will  soon  recover. 
I  regret  to  have  been  at  least  the  seeming  cause  of 
this  attack.  If  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you,  com 
mand  me.  " 

With  a  slight  and  graceful  gesture  of  his  hand  to 
ward  the  card  on  the  table,  he  bowed  and  walked  out 
of  the  studio. 

23 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

St.  Claire  was  alone  with  Ola.  He  did  not  care  to 
summon  any  of  the  other  artists  in  the  building  lest 
explanations  might  be  in  order,  and  he  could  not 
leave  her  alone;  so  he  did  what  few  things  he  could 
think  of  doing,  and  patiently,  though  anxiously,  await 
ed  developments. 

In  after  years,  whenever  St.  Claire  thought  of  that 
afternoon,  and  his  lone  watch  beside  the  fainting  wo 
man,  he  was  reminded  of  the  way  in  which  a  little 
boy  told  about  having  a  tooth  extracted.  Said  the 
child,  "The  dentist  put  the  forceps  on,  and  pulled, 
and  pulled,  and  pulled,  and  just  before  it  killed  me,  the 
tooth  came  out.  " 

Ned  knelt  beside  Ola,  and  just  when  he  thought 
she  would  never  revive,  the  fluttering  breath  returned ; 
she  groaned  and  opened  her  eyes.  After  St.  Claire 
had  led  her  to  the  sofa,  she  seemed  in  no  great  hurry 
to  talk.  He  began  looking  over  some  art  journals, 
knowing  well  that  if  she  had  anything  to  communi 
cate,  she  would  speak,  without  any  solicitations  from 
him ;  and  that  if  she  had  not,  a  question  would  receive 
a  polite,  but  evasive  answer.  His  seat  was  at  such 
an  angle  from  her  that  he  could  watch  the  expression 
of  her  countenance  without  her  knowledge;  and  he 
did  not  scruple  to  take  this  advantage  of  her.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  saw  depicted  there  fear  and  dis 
gust,  mingled  a  little  with  doubt. 

After  a  long  reflective  self-communion,  she  said, 
"  Ned,  what  kind  of  a  looking  man  was  he  who 
frightened  me  so?" 

24 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  I  had  so  little  time  to  notice, "  said  he  briefly, 
not  raising  his  eyes  from  the  art  journal. 

This  vexed  Ola,  for  she  thought  St.  Claire  was 
suspicious  of  her,  and  that  his  suspicion  made  him 
assume  indifference,  and  that  he  was  playing  his  part 
badly.  Somewhat  sarcastically  she  asked,  "  Did  you 
pay  enough  heed  to  tell  if  he  were  white  or  black?  " 

By  this  remark  St.  Claire  learned  that  his  talents 
as  a  dissembler  were  not  appreciated ;  so  he  left  off  his 
inspection  of  the  art  journal,  and  bringing  a  light 
chair  up  to  the  sofa,  he  seated  himself  and  said, 
"  As  near  as  I  can  remember,  the  man  was  about 
five  feet  seven ;  thin,  of  blond  complexion,  with  peculiar 
colored  blue  eyes,  deep-set  in  the  head  and  close  to 
gether;  teeth  white  and  even,  one  premolar  oil  either 
side  of  the  upper  jaw  missing;  a  peculiar,  and  rather 
pleasing  expression  around  the  mouth  when  smiling, 
indicative  of  an  ingenuous  trust  in  his  brother  man. 
One  is  somewhat  in  doubt  whether  to  take  as  an  index 
of  his  character  the  questioning,  suspicious,  rat-like 
expression  of  the  eyes,  or  the  frank  smile  around  the 
mouth,  or  neither. 

Ola  made  no  comment,  asked  no  questions ,  but 
returned  to  her  reverie. 

As  he  walked  away  from  her,  St.  Claire  thought : 
"  Under  ordinary  circumstances  she  would  have  been 
quick  enough  to  batter  me  with  good  natured  ridicule 
at  the  discrepancy  of  my  two  statements.  This  is  evi 
dently  an  extraordinary  circumstances.  Poor  girl ! 
poor  girl !"  In  fact,  St.  Claire  had  really  had  little 
enough  time  in  which  to  notice  how  the  stranger 

25 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

looked,  but  he  had  put  that  time  to  the  best  possible 
use,  and  the  make-up  which  could  disguise  that  man 
so  that  St.  Claire  would  not  know  him,  were  he  to  see 
him  again,  must  needs  be  skillful  indeed. 

"  Did  you  learn  his  name?  "  said  Ola  languidly. 

"  He  left  this  card. "  St.  Claire  gave  Ola  the  card 
the  gentleman  had  placed  on  the  table  and  she  read 
aloud : — 


RANDOLPH    MARMADUKE 

Accountant 
Morton  House.    New  York  City. 


"Well,  I  never  heard  that  name  before  in  my  life, " 
said  she,  and  St.  Claire  thought  Ola  looked  brighter, 
more  hopeful.  By  accident,  she  got  the  card  near 
her  face,  when,  suddenly  dropping  it,  she  turned  pale. 
"  Don't  you  like  the  smell  of  it?  "  thought  he.  He 
watched  his  opportunity  to  see  what  effect  the  bit  of 
pasteboard  would  have  on  him.  It  was  rank  with 
some  sort  of  perfume.  What  was  it?  He  could  not 
tell,  but  evidently  the  base  of  the  odor  was  musk. 
Was  there  any  connecting-link  between  that  card  and 
Ola's  pronounced  abomination  of  perfumes?  He  had 
known  her  to  take  the  most  violent  prejudices  against 
sti  angers  for  which  she  could,  or  would,  give  no 
possible  reason;  and  he  had  invariably  noticed  that 
such  strangers  used  perfumes. 

"  Well,  Ned,  I  suppose  I  might  as  well  shut  up 
26 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

shop  and  go  home.  I  hope  I  shall  get  my  allowance 
of  bread  to-night,  but  I  am  sure  I  have  not  earned  it. 
In  more  senses  than  one,  I  can  truthfully  say  I  have 
lost  the  day.  " 

In  a  trembling,  nervous  way,  Ola  made  such  pre 
parations  as  were  necessary  for  leaving  the  studio  for 
the  night,  and  then  she  and  St.  Claire  descended  to 
the  street  and  there  separated;  he  going  toward  the 
east  side  of  the  city  and  she  up  town. 


CHAPTER    II. 

"  In  the  parlors  of  the  Morton  House  to-night,  at  nine. 

"  Will.  " 

The  flat  in  which  lived  Ola  Del,  Georgia  Hilton, 
and  Nell  Thorne,  was  warm  and  bright  and  cheerful, 
when  Ola  came  in  from  the  street.  Pretty  little 
Nora,  with  her  black  hair  held  down  by  her  dainty 
frilled  cap,  and  her  neat  gingham  frock  and  white 
apron,  fluttered  in  and  out  of  the  dining-room  as  she 
put  the  finishing  touches  to  the  table  she  was  setting 
for  dinner.  Now  and  then  she  addressed  a  remark  to 
Ola  and  Nell  with  her  north-of-Ireland  brogue,  and  if 
you  were  not  an  expert  in  the  matter  of  accents,  you 
would  be  in  doubt  whether  the  girl  were  Scotch  or 
Irish.  Nora  was  a  never  ceasing  source  of  amuse 
ment  to  Nell — but  then,  Nell  was  determined  to  be 
amused. 

Here,  in  this  flat  of  eight  rooms  in  which  these 
three  artists  lived  with  their  maid  of  all  work,  dwelt 
perfect  harmony.  Although  Ola  Del  was  the  ostensi 
ble  mistress  of  the  establishment,  and  the  others  only 
boarders,  there  was  yet  a  family  feeling,  and  a  com 
munity-interest.  The  bulk  of  the  furniture  belonged 
to  Ola,  but  each  woman  had  individual  trifles  in  her 
own  room,  which  gave  a  stamp  of  character  to  the 
apartment  Over  all  this  Nora  reigned  with  pride 
and  pleasure.  All  was  clean  and  orderly;  and  rosv- 

28 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

cheeked,  black-eyed  Nora  loved  her  place  and  her 
"ladies.  " 

Georgia  Hilton,  ("  Bronze  "),  was  rather  tall  and 
stout;  she  had  a  wealth  of  most  beautiful  hair  about 
the  color  of  the  mixture  of  metals  known  as  bronze, 
with  eyes  to  match.  It  was  from  these  peculiar  fea 
tures  that  Ola  had  given  her  the  sobriquet  of 
"  Bronze. "  Georgia  took  kindly  to  the  nickname, 
and  it  became  generally  adopted  by  all  her  friends. 

No  one  feature  of  "  Bronze's  "  face,  viewed  apart, 
was  pretty,  but  there  was  perfect  harmony  in  face, 
form,  and  disposition.  She  was  lively  but  not  viva 
cious.  There  was  a  soft,  dulcet  tone  to  her  voice 
when  she  spoke,  and  a  most  musical  cadence  to  her 
laugh.  She  "  made  haste  slowly  "  in  everything  she 
did.  She  was  neat,  orderly,  and  had  excellent  taste 
in  dress,  as  in  everything  else.  No  article  of 
"  Bronze's "  wearing  apparel,  no  ornament  in  her 
room  was  every  shoddy  in  appearance.  She  painted 
fairly  well,  especially  flowers ;  but  she  worked  only 
when  the  caprice  took  her.  Captain  Gordon's  allow 
ance  put  quite  a  damper  on  "  Bronze's  "  ambition  and 
industry. 

When  she  learned  the  true  state  of  affairs  between 
herself  and  the  Captain,  she  accepted  the  situation 
like  a  stoic.  "  No  amount  of  tragedy  would  make  it 
any  different,"  she  said.  She  did  not  even  indulge  in 
the  feminine  weakness  of  hating  or  railing  at  the 
Captain.  She  accepted  his  explanation,  with  his  al 
lowance,  and  went  along  just  as  if  nothing  out  of  the 
ordinary  had  happened.  The  Captain  loved  her,  and 

29 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

she  liked  him ;  probably  better  than  she  did  any  body 
else.  For  in  spite  of  the  wrong  he  had  done  her,  she 
appreciated  the  reliability  and  constancy  of  his  love. 
"  Bronze  "  had  lots  of  admirers,  and  she  liked  every 
body  who  was  likeable — but  she  loved  no  one. 

One  Sunday  morning  at  breakfast,  Ola,  who  had 
been  listening  to  "  Bronze  "  and  Nell  laughing  at  the 
distress  of  some  gentlemen  they  had  been  in  company 
with  the  evening  before,  asked  "  Bronze  "  if  she  had 
never  loved  anybody  in  her  life. 

"  Yes,  "  said  "  Bronze, "  "  when  I  was  about 
fifteen  years  old,  I  loved  a  West  Point  cadet  so  much 
that  I  trembled  like  a  leaf  every  time  he  came 
near  me.  He  stole  all  my  jewelry  and  ribbons  and 
little  trinkets,  and  gave  them  to  his  best  girl.  That 
was  enough  for  me.  I  have  never  loved  any  man 
since. "  And  she  laughed  as  though  it  were  very 
funny,  not  a  shade  of  bitterness  lurking  in  her  tone. 

"  So  now  you  intend  to  have  your  own  fun  with 
them.  Well,  that's  right.  Just  deceive  them,  that's 
all  they  are  good  for,  even  the  best  of  them,  "  said 
Ola. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  about  deceiving  them.  It 
isn't  deception  I  want,  especially.  It's  just  to  kill 
time,  to  be  amused,  and  so  get  through  life  as  com 
fortably  as  possible.  I  don't  blame  the  men  for  what 
they  do.  They  can't  help  it,  they  are  built  that  way. 
And  then  I  find  them  exceedingly  convenient,  with 
their  invitations  to  places  of  amusement,  their  din 
ners,  and  drives,"  "  Bronze "  answered  good-na 
turedly. 

30 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  How  do  you  think  the  Captain  likes  it  ? " 
said  Ola,  and  in  her  heart  she  felt  somewhat  sorry 
for  the  Captain,  whose  love  had  prompted  him  to  the 
commission  of  so  great  a  wrong. 

"He's  got  to  like  it,"  said  "Bronze,"  "for  I 
haven't  the  slightest  idea  of  doing  differently.  " 

And  this  was  "  Bronze.  "  She  ate,  she  drank,  she 
played  the  banjo,  she  painted,  she  flirted,  she  grati 
fied  the  physical  woman  in  every  respect,  nor  troubled 
herself  about  either  the  here,  or  the  hereafter. 

And  Nell?  Nell  was  a  little  sunny-haired 
creature,  not  supertidy  nor  orderly.  She  did  a  great 
many  things  passably,  and  nothing  excellently;  but 
she  was  content  with  her  work,  accomplished  an  im 
mense  amount  of  it,  and  was  the  best  business  woman 
of  the  three.  She  never  looked  into  the  future,  never 
spent  any  money  until  she  had  it,  never  counted  her 
prospects,  but  trafficked  only  in  her  possessions.  She 
took  work  with  fifty  cents  guaranteed,  in  preference 
to  a  contingent  fifty-dollar  job.  If  dealers  owed 
her  money,  she  made  them  pay  it.  She  went  through 
all  sorts  of  wind  and  weather,  drabbled  her  skirts 
with  mud,  as  far  up  as  she  could  drabble  them  with 
out  actually  getting  down  and  rolling  over.  She  ran 
down  the  muddy  steps  of  the  elevated  roads  and 
dragged  her  skirts  after  her.  She  was  a  dreadfully 
destructive  little  jade,  destroying  everything  she  came 
near,  whether  it  belonged  to  herself,  or  to  another.  All 
her  clothes  and  little  possessions  were  shoddy  as  shod 
dy  could  be ;  and  yet  she  had  an  artistic  taste  and  touch, 
and  somehow  or  another  she  managed  to  look  stylish. 

31 


'TIS  THUS  THEY  WOO  ON  WALL  STREET 

She  would  do  the  most  foolish  things  in  the  world, 
and  often  gave  people  just  cause  for  thinking  ill  of 
her.  But  when  it  came  to  acts  which  violated  the 
code  of  her  well-regulated  conscience,  you  could 
count  her  out,  every  time.  She  was  engaged  to  Jack 
Newman,  with  the  understanding  that  they  would 
marry  "  when  they  could  see  their  way  clear.  " 

Jack  was  an  artist  also;  but  he  was  somewhat 
visionary,  and  Nell  was  always  bringing  him  back 
from  his  dreams  to  the  grist  of  the  useful.  Had  he 
been  half  as  industrious  and  sensible  as  she  was, 
that  waiting  "  to  see  their  way  clear "  would  have 
been  much  shorter. 

And  Ola  Del?  Of  the  three  women,  the  marks 
of  a  thorough  education,  early  association  with  lux 
uries  and  refinements,  and  patrician  blood  were  most 
noticeable  in  her;  but  she  was  reticent,  in  the  ex 
treme,  as  to  her  past.  She  often  said,  with  a  sad 
smile,  that  she  was  'the  last  of  the  Mohicans,'  the 
only  one  living,  of  all  her  family,  not  having  one  re 
lative  by  consanguinity  on  all  the  earth. 

Ola  was  neat  and  orderly,  but  the  poorest  of  poor 
business  women.  If  dealers  owed  her  money  and  paid 
it,  it  was  all  right.  If  they  owed  it,  and  did  not 
pay  it,  she  never  asked  them  for  it.  She  worked  along 
at  a  low  grade  of  art,  and  most  thoroughly  detested 
her  work.  Her  thoughts  were  always  of  the  future, 
and  some  great  and  imperishable  work  she  should 
one  day  produce — something  that  might  live  for  at 
least  a  few  hundred  years.  She  was  visionary  and 
impractical  in  the  extreme.  Logical,  reasonable, 

3* 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

clairvoyant,  she  was;  and  yet  these  three  offsprings 
of  wisdom  were  led  into  the  most  hopeless  mirage 
by  dreams  and  fancies  more  extravagant  than  those 
of  an  Eastern  poet.  She  believed  that  the  dead  are 
dead ;  and  yet  she  looked  up  at  the  stars  and  said, 
"In  that  one,  is  such  a  beloved  one,  and  in  that  one 
such  another,  and  in  that  one  is  still  another,  and  they 
see  me,  and  love  me,  and  pity  me. " 

And  she  held  her  arms  up  to  the  stars,  and  said, 
"  Come  to  me  once  more,  my  beloved  dead,  come  and 
embrace  me.  " 

And  when  she  was  all  alone,  and  the  night  was 
beautiful  and  calm,  and  she  communed  thus  with  the 
stars,  she  turned  away  from  them  comforted,  and 
this  comfort  rested  with  her  until  the  rough  con 
tact  with  the  world  on  the  following  day  scattered  it. 
But  she  firmly  believed  that  the  dead  are  dead.  She 
said  so. 

Ola  was  of  medium  height  and  slight  figure.  She 
had  a  great  wealth  of  the  most  beautiful,  soft,  fine, 
curly  black  hair  that  ever  crowned  a  woman's  head ; 
and  large  grey-black  eyes — that  is,  eyes  which  though 
grey,  frequently  looked  black.  She  was  not  pretty, 
not  even  a  little  bit.  Saying  to  herself  "There  is 
nothing  perfect  on  earth, "  she  nevertheless  longed 
to  be  perfect  herself  and  to  love  and  be  loved  by  a 
perfect  man — a  man  perfect  in  all  noble  and  god-like 
qualities.  Ah,  she  was  a  sad  dreamer!  and  the 
awakening  from  those  dreams  of  beauty  to  the 
hideous  and  repellent  reality,  cast  a  gloom  over 
her,  made  her  almost  habitually  melancholy.  Every- 

33 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

thing  in  life  had  been  a  disappointment  to  her;  her 
self  most  of  all. 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  Nell  at  the  dinner 
table  that  evening.  "  You  are  silent,  and  you  look  as 
frightened  as  though  you  had  seen  a  ghost. " 

"  Perhaps  I  have, "  said  Ola. 

"  Well,  if  you  have  no  more  serious  trouble,  cheer 
up.  I  have  often  heard  you  say  the  dead  are  dead. 
You  are  worse  than  a  funeral  procession.  " 

"  Yes,  the  dead  are  dead.  But  the  trouble  is, 
some  people  never  die,"  said  Ola  in  so  sad  a  tone  that 
she  frightened  herself. 

She  feared  Nell  would  make  some  personal  and 
direct  application  of  her  remark,  and  she  nervously 
and  hastily  added,  "  Rich  and  heirless  relatives,  for 
instance.  " 

Then  Ola  made  a  desperate  effort  to  be  gay, 
through  fear  that  Nell  would  suspect  about  that  vis 
itor  at  the  studio,  and  she  so  over-did  the  part,  that 
when  "  Bronze  "  came  in,  she  wondered  if  the  girls 
had  been  drinking  wine. 

That  night,  when  Ola  was  alone,  she  looked  up  at 
the  stars  and  said  to  herself,  "  It  is  only  a  question  of 
time  when  the  agony  must  begin  again.  "  She  went 
to  bed,  but  could  not  sleep,  and  arose  the  next  morn 
ing  unrefreshed  and  more  disgusted  with  her  life 
than  ever.  At  the  studio  she  was  more  dissatisfied 
with  her  work  than  ever.  The  visitor  did  not  return, 
but  this  was  no  comfort  to  her.  He  would  come,  she 
knew,  and  the  sooner  the  better,  she  said. 

Two  weeks  passed,  when  one  evening,  upon  her 
34 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

return  to  the  flat,  Nora  handed  her  a  note.    She  open 
ed  it  and  read — 


"  In  the  parlor  of  the  Morton  House  to-night  at  9. 

"  Will." 

She  instantly  destroyed  the  note.  After  dinner 
she  opened  her  piano  and  played  all  the  jigs  and  dance 
and  martial  music  she  could  think  of;  and  at  ten 
o'clock  she  went  to  bed.  After  that,  the  notes  came 
every  day  for  a  couple  of  weeks.  Always  the  same 
request — 

"  In  the  parlor  of  the  Morton  House  to-night  at  9. 

"Will." 

Then  Nora  told  her  that  a  gentleman  had  called  to 
see  her,  during  the  day,  who  refused  to  give  his 
name,  or  state  his  business. 

"What  kind  of  a  looking  man  was  he,  Nora?  " 

"  Oh,  Mum,  he  was  about  the  build  of  Mr.  St. 
Claire,  light  complected — and — but,  Mum,  as  to  the 
expression  of  his  countenance,  I  didn't  take  notice.  " 

Nell  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh  at  the  quaint  ex 
pression,  and  said,  "  Nora,  you  must  always  take 
notice  of  the  expression  of  a  man's  countenance.  Noth 
ing  is  more  important.  Only  by  taking  heed  there 
unto  can  you  tell  the  rats  from  the  mice.  " 

Although  Nora  had  a  suspicion  that  she  was 
being  laughed  at,  she  answered  deferentially,  "  In 
deed,  then,  Mum,  I'm  sure  I'd  know  a  rat  from  a 

35 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

mouse.  Sure,  it's  big  enough  rats  used  to  be  in  our 
barn,  home  in  Ireland,  and  there's  a  mouse  in  my 
kitchen  closet  now,  that  I  can't  persuade,  bate  the 
trap  how  I  will,  to  go  in. " 

"  Should  this  mysterious  personage  return,  Nora, 
you  may  say  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
state  his  business  to  you,  "  said  Ola. 
"  I  will,  then,  Mum.  " 

St.  Claire  dropped  in  that  evening.  He  noticed, 
with  regret,  that  Ola  was  thin  and  pale;  that  in  the 
grey-black  eyes  there  was  a  nervous,  frightened  look; 
that  she  paced  restlessly  up  and  down  the  room ;  that 
she  talked  more  pessimistically  than  usual;  that  she 
seemed  ever  and  ever  more  discontented  with  her 
work;  that  the  torture  of  her  ambition  to  do  one 
meritorious  piece  before  she  died  was  gaining 
strength,  as  the  woman  was  losing  it;  that  if  he  inci 
dentally  mentioned  marriage  with  the  "  Banker, "  as  a 
means  of  furnishing  her  with  the  funds  necessary 
to  prosecute  her  studies,  she  flew  at  him  in  a  temper 
and  bade  him  never  mention  that  hideous,  perfumed 
Yankee  to  her  again. 

"  She  will  tell  me  what  is  on  her  heart  after  a 
time.  I  must  wait,  "  thought  Ned. 

Ola  was  nervous,  restless;  she  could  neither  eat 
nor  sleep.  The  next  morning  when  the  postman  rang, 
she  went  down  to  the  door  herself,  and  took  the  let 
ters  from  the  box.  The  young  women  got  consider 
able  mail ;  orders  from  dealers,  letters  from  friends, 
and  lovers.  The  postman  had  fallen  into  the  habit 
of  putting  any  letter  addressed  to  the  number,  when 

36 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

he  did  not  know  to  whom  it  belonged,  in  the  "  Del " 
box.  This  morning  among  the  others  there  was,  as 
usual,  one  from  "  Will, "  and  another,  addressed : 

"  To  the  landlord  or  landlady  of  No. —  Blank 
Street. 

"New  York  City, 
N.  Y. " 
Ola  opened  it  and  read : 

"  Dear  Sir,  or  Madam : 

"  Can  you  tell  me  if  one  Mrs.  Ola  Del  still  resides 
at  your  house,  and  if  not,  where  a  letter  will  reach 
her?  I  have  something  important  to  communicate, 
to  her. 

"  Respectfully  yours, 

"RANDOLPH  MARMADUKE 
"  Accountant,  Morton  House,  New  York  City.  "" 

"  There  is  nothing  left  for  me  to  do  but  sur 
render,  "  said  Ola. 


37 


CHAPTER    III. 

"  Let  me  help  you  when  and  how  I  can.       You  will 
need  some  one  on  whom  to  rely. " 

"  I  found  the  way  to  bring  you  at  last  did  I  ?  " 
and  a  triumphant  smile  played  around  the  mouth  of 
Ola's  persecutor,  as  he  saw  her  walk  into  the  parlor 
of  the  Morton  House  that  night  at  nine. 

"  As  briefly  as  possible,  what  do  you  want,  Will 
Fallon?" 

"  As  briefly  as  possible,  then,  Mrs.  Will  Fallon,  I 
want  my  wife  to  receive  and  recognize  her  husband.  " 
The  man  put  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  looked  at 
the  woman,  happy  that  at  last,  he  had  her  at  his 
mercy. 

"  We  cannot  talk  here.  Is  it  safe  to  go  to  your 
room  ?  "  said  Ola. 

"  It  is  generally  deemed  good  form  for  a  wife  and 
husband  to  be  together.  In  your  case,  however,  as 
you  pose  as  a  widow,  there  might  be  danger  of 
scandal ,"  said  the  man. 

Ola  remained  silent  and  thoughtful  for  a  few 
moments.  She  was  endeavoring  to  determine  what  to 
do.  That  she  must  come  to  some  understanding  with 
her  husband  was  beyond  doubt.  But  where  could 
they  converse.  The  parlor  of  any  hotel  was  unsafe; 
she  did  not  wish  to  take  him  to  her  flat,  but  the 

38 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

weather  was  so  cold,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
hold  the  interview  somewhere  within  doors.  After 
passing  various  places  in  review,  in  her  mind,  she 
determined  to  go  home ;  so,  arising  she  said,  "  Come 
with  me.  " 

Will  Fallon  made  no  comment  whatever,  but, 
taking  his  hat  in  his  hand,  made  a  gesture  for 
her  to  lead  on.  They  went  into  the  street,  got  on  an 
uptown  car,  she  paying  the  fare  for  two,  and  reached 
her  home.  "  Bronze  "  and  Nell  were  both  in  their 
own  rooms,  and  Nora  had  gone  to  bed.  Ola  indi 
cated  a  chair  upon  which  her  husband  could  be  seat 
ed  if  he  would.  He  took  another,  thus  intending  to 
demonstrate  that  he  would  not  be  dictated  to,  even 
in  the  matter  of  seats.  She  removed  her  wraps  and 
gloves,  pushed  back  a  few  rebellious  black  curls  from 
her  temples  and,  looking  at  the  man,  she  said : 

"  As  to  any  reception  of  you  in  my  home,  or 
recognition  of  you  as  my  husband,  I  can  assure  you 
nothing  could  be  farther  from  my  thoughts  and  in 
tentions  ;  so,  if  that  is  the  only  object  you  had  in 
seeing  me,  your  mission  has  been  futile.  If  I  can 
effect  a  compromise  with  you  by  which  I  can  have 
peace,  I  am  willing  to  listen.  " 

Now  it  was  the  man's  turn  to  be  thoughtful.  He 
looked  around  the  room  and  murmured,  as  to  himself : 
"  You  are  very  nicely  fixed.  Your  taste  was  always 
superb,  Ola.  " 

"  Compliments  or  flatteries  are  in  exceedingly  bad 
taste  from  you  to  me.  Yes,  I  am  comfortably  fixed, 
as  you  term  it,  and  I  have  the  indisputable  right  to 

39 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

my  possessions  which  every  laborer  has  to  what  he 
earns.  I  beg  you  to  leave  all  such  irrelevant  trifles 
out  of  the  conversation,  and  tell  me  what  you  mean 
by  your  persecution  of  me. " 

Ola  pressed  her  hands  over  her  eyes,  as  though 
she  would  shut  out  the  view  of  the  man  before  her, 
who  regarded  her  with  such  a  look  of  replete  satis 
faction  on  his  face.  But,  perhaps,  a  curiosity  to  read 
in  advance  the  words  his  tongue  would  speak  by  their 
foreshadowing  in  the  "  expression  of  his  counten 
ance,  "  as  Nora  had  expressed  it,  impelled  her ;  at  any 
rate,  she  withdrew  her  hands,  and  looked  her  whole 
of  contempt  at  him.  This  pleased  him  to  the  depths. 
He  laughed  and  said: 

"  Now,  Ola,  don't  be  so  hard  on  a  fellow ;  just 
think  what  it  is  to  be  the  husband  of  such  a  fasci 
nating  creature  as  you  are  ?  Why,  I  tell  you,  girl,  that 
would  swell  the  head  of  an  angel.  " 

"  On  that  line  of  thought  it  need  have  no  such 
effect  on  you, "  retorted  Ola,  bitterly. 

The  man  laughed  as  if  he  enjoyed  this  immensely. 
"  I  tell  you,  girl,"  he  went  on  deliberately,  "  all  those 
attributes  which  make  men  wild  after  women,  you 
possess  in  full.  I  would  not  relinquish  my  place  as 
your  husband,  even  though  denounced  and  disowned 
by  you,  for  an  assurance  of  a  seat  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  for  all  eternity. " 

"  Of  course,  of  course,  you  are  my  husband,  we 
will  admit  that;  and  that  I  have  forfeited  my  right  to 
free  myself  from  these  chains  I  so  loathe,  is  also  ad 
mitted.  You  can  prove  I  married  you —  but  what  of 

40 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

it?    Can  you  force  me  to  live  with  you?" 

"  If  I  could,  be  very  dead  sure  I  would,  "  and  his 
eyes,  as  they  travelled  over  his  wife's  symmetrical 
form,  illy  concealed  the  lust  of  the  male  that  gleamed 
within  them. 

"  Well,  you  cannot.  So  make  an  end  of  that 
delusive  hope.  As  I  have  already  told  you,  there 
is  no  torture  which  the  inquisition  ever  imposed 
which  I  would  not  endure  rather  than  recognize  you, 
acknowledge  our  relations  or  receive  you  into  my 
home.  If  you  want  money,  which  I  presume  is  your 
real  object,  name  the  price  of  your  silence.  I  shall 
pay  it  if  I  can,  you  may  be  sure,  "  and  having  come  to 
a  halt  just  before  her  husband  in  her  pacing  up  and 
down  the  room,  she  clutched  the  folds  of  her  gown 
just  about  the  region  of  her  heart,  and  bit  her  lip,  as 
though  she  suffered  a  slight  spasm  of  pain. 

All  these  indications  of  excitement  in  her  seemed 
but  to  add  to  the  man's  joy.  A  harsh  laugh,  which  he 
intended  to  be  merry,  rippled  out  of  his  lips  as  he 
said,  facetiously,  "So  you  have  wealth,  have  you? 
Where  does  it  come  from?  from  this  devoted  brother 
of  yours,  this  Mr.  Edward  St.  Claire?" 

If  Fallen  had  intended  this  remark  to  anger  her, 
he  had  evidently  missed  his  mark.  At  the  mention  of 
St.  Claire  there  was  a  perceptible  quieting  of  her 
agitation,  and  she  said  sorrowfully,  "  You  are  not 
capable  of  appreciating  the  affection  I  have  for  Ned 
St.  Claire.  It  would  not  hurt  my  feelings  to  have  you 
charge  him,  or  any  other  man,  to  my  account  as  a 
lover.  But  know  this:  What  money  you  get  will 

41 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

have  to  come  from  me.  If  I  were  the  favorite  of 
Baron  Rothschild,  and  it  were  necessary  to  buy 
peace  from  you,  a  high  figure,  set  by  you,  would  spoil 
your  claims  entirely.  You  can  have  the  wages  of  my 
labor,  not  the  substantial  assurance  of  the  love  of  any 
man  for  me.  Ned  St.  Claire  has  no  money.  If  he 
had,  I  know  I  could  command  it,  but  you  would  die 
of  hunger  and  thirst  before  I  would  solicit  a  loan  for 
you.  I  will  work  for  you,  but  I  will  not  beg,  nor 
prostitute  myself  for  you.  " 

"  Good !  Good !  "  said  Will  Fallen,  "  Was  there 
ever  such  another  woman  born  into  the  world.  Bravo! 
my  girl,  bravo!  and  just  to  think  you  belong  to  me! 
But  I'm  the  lucky  dog!  the  lucky  dog,  I  tell  you!  Do 
you  know,  I  fancied  the  old  time  heroines  were  quite 
gone  out ;  but  there  is  a  brilliant  survival  in  you.  What 
a  pity  you  have  no  children !"  The  man  rubbed  his 
hands  in  glee,  and  looked  at  Ola  in  genuine  admira 
tion.  Was  this  a  proof  that  there  is,  in  every  human 
being,  a  seed  of  good  which,  if  rightly  nurtured  and 
cared  for,  would  bring  forth  fruit  after  it's  own  kind? 

"  Oh,  have  done  with  this  nonsense,  "  said  Ola 
angrily.  "  You  want  money,  of  course.  How  much?  " 

"  Yes,  little  wife,  I  need  money ;  unfortunately 
the  slippery  stuff  has  a  fashion  of  getting  out  of  my 
fingers.  Just  a  little,  any  trifle  you  may  have  handy, 
will  do  for  this  evening.  I  look  eagerly  forward  to 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again  and  often.  " 

"  Be  sensible,  don't  go  too  far.  I  shall  not  see 
you.  "  She  opened  her  pocket-book,  and  handed  him 
all  there  was  in  it.  At  this  moment  the  bell 

42 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

rang,  and,  knowing  that  Nora  had  retired,  she  had 
started  to  go  to  the  door  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  when 
she  saw  Nell  come  out  of  her  room  for  the  same  pur 
pose. 

"  Is  that  any  one  for  you,  Nell?  " 

"  I  should  not  be  surprised ;  I  have  expected  Jack 
all  the  evening.  " 

"  Very  well,  "  said  Ola,  and  she  went  back  into 
her  own  part  of  the  flat,  leaving  Nell  to  attend  the 
door.  Fallen  counted  the  money  his  wife  had  given 
him,  and  with  a  pleased  expression  put  it  in  his  vest, 
then  gently  patted  the  pocket  on  the  outside. 

When  Ola  returned  to  the  room  she  said,  "  I  wish 
to  say  to  you  that  I  will  respond  to  your  calls  upon 
me  for  money,  if  I  have  it,  as  long  as  you  keep  out  of 
my  sight.  You  know  how  to  write,  I  believe.  " 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  sound  of  voices  at 
the  door,  and  before  she  could  prevent  it,  Ned  St. 
Claire  was  coming  down  the  hall  in  obedience  to 
Nell's  words :  "  The  wrong  man  again !  Well,  go  in 
the  front  room,  and  you,  more  lucky  than  I,  will  find 
the  right  woman.  I  expected  Jack.  " 

'  Nil  desperandum,'  he'll  be  here  in  five  minutes. 
He  is  trying  to  give  Bob  Clayton  the  slip  now,  two 
blocks  below,  "  and  Ned  St.  Claire  pushed  back  the 
drapery  from  the  hall  door,  and,  with  a  brotherly 
familiarity,  had  taken  a  couple  of  steps  into  the 
parlor  before  he  saw  Fallen.  Guiltily  enough  he  hesi 
tated,  when  he  saw  and  recognized  Ola's  visitor. 

But  she  had  recovered  her  composure  and  said 
right  cheerily,  "  Come  in,  Ned,  I  am  always  glad  to 

43 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

see  you,  and  I  was  never  more  so  than  at  this 
moment. " 

It  was  an  understood  thing  that  St.  Claire  or 
Jack  Newman  were  always  admitted,  always  wel 
come.  "  Bronze  "  did  not  invariably  see  the  Captain, 
for  she  had  others — sub-rosa  affairs;  but  Ola  had 
no  secrets  from  Ned,  or  at  least  she  had  none  before 
the  advent  of  Fallen;  and  Nell  had  none  from  Jack. 

Ola  looked  at  St.  Claire  and  said,  "  Sit  down, 
Ned,  I  shall  be  at  liberty  in  a  moment,  "  then  turn 
ing  to  Fallen,  she  said :  "  Can  I  do  anything  more 
for  you,  sir?"  These  were  the  words  she  spoke,  but 
in  her  voice  and  eyes  was  the  command,  "  Go ;  I 
have  endured  enough  for  one  evening. " 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,  Madam, "  and  making  his 
wife  an  obsequious  bow,  and  bending  his  head  slight 
ly  to  St.  Claire,  Fallen  left  the  room. 

There  was  an  awkward  and  embarrassing  silence, 
in  which  Ola  restlessly  paced  up  and  down  the  room. 
Manlike,  Ned  let  her  get  out  of  her  predicament  as 
best  she  could.  Finally  she  seated  herself  on  the  piano 
stool  with  her  back  to  the  instrument,  and  said,  "  Ned, 
if  ever  a  woman  felt  thankful  to  the  fates  for  any 
favor,  I  have  for  the  accident  that  gave  me  your 
acquaintance  and  friendship."  St  Claire  was  about 
to  make  a  protesting  remark  when  she  silenced  him 
with  a  gesture.  "  You  are  a  good  listener,  Ned. 
Patience;  don't  make  my  task  any  harder.  That  man 
who  has  just  left  me,  is  my  husband. " 

At  this  revelation,  St.  Claire  was  indeed  struck 
dumb.  He  could  not  have  uttered  a  word  to  save 

44 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

his  soul,  if  he  had  felt  himself  possessed  of  such  an 
article,  and  of  an  overpowering  desire  to  save  it. 

"  I  must  tell  you  about  it,  Ned,  and  then  you  may 
give  me  your  friendship,  or  hold  it  from  me,  as  you 
see  fit.  My  father  was  an  only  child  of  wealthy  and 
well-born  people,  whose  pride  lay  in  birth,  intellectual 
acquirements  and  culture;  not  in  money.  My  mother 
was  also  an  only  child  with  like  predecessors  and 
prejudices.  I  was  an  only  child.  Everything  that 
money  and  love  could  bestow,  were  mine  in  childhood 
and  youth.  The  very  means  by  which  I  earn  my 
living  was  learned  as  an  accomplishment.  In  my 
early  maidenhood  my  mother  died,  leaving  her  for 
tune  to  me,  all  to  be  legally  surrendered  to  me  on  my 
eighteenth  birthday.  Will  Fallen  and  I  were  students 
of  the  same  professor.  Fallen,  as  you  may  fancy,  was 
of  Irish  parentage,  and  a  Roman  Catholic.  How  I 
hate  the  Irish  and  the  Church  of  Rome !  That  man 
taught  me  everything  wrong  that  I  know.  He  wished 
to  marry  me;  my  father  naturally  and  properly  re 
fused.  Fallen  induced  me  to  elope  with  him.  I  do 
not  think  he  would  have  done  this  had  he  not  sup 
posed  my  father  would  forgive  and  take  us  back.  He 
was  mistaken.  I  loved  the  man,  and  made  him  absolute 
monarch  over  all  that  was  mine.  In  less  than  two 
years  he  had  gambled  away  my  mother's  fortune, 
embezzled  ten  thousand  dollars  from  the  firm  by 
which  he  was  employed,  was  arrested,  tried,  con 
victed,  and  sentenced  to  four  years  in  the  state  prison 
— a  light  sentence  being  given  on  account  of  his 

45 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

youth.  He  served  his  time;  I  remained  faithful  to 
him  through  all. 

"  When  he  came  out  of  prison,  I  said,  '  Now,  Will, 
we  are  both  young,  and  we  can  work ;  let  us  go  away 
from  all  we  know,  and  begin  life  anew.  If  you  will 
be  an  honest  man,  I  shall  aid  and  encourage  you :  I 
did  not  tell  him  I  had  no  longer  any  love  for  him,  but 
I  had  not.  There  was  an  all-killing  nausea  within  me 
whenever  I  reflected  that  he  was  a  thief.  Had  he  been 
a  murderer,  it  would  not  have  been  half  so  hard  to 
bear — but  a  thief,  a  betrayer  of  trust  reposed  within 
him,  and  my  husband.  Ugh!  It  was  sickening! 

"  Of  course  he  promised  everything,  and  we  went 
away  together.  In  St.  Louis  he  was  arrested  for  steal 
ing  his  mistress's  diamonds  to  gamble  away.  While  he 
was  serving  this  sentence,  I  came  to  New  York  and 
assumed  my  own  baptismal  name  in  conjunction  with 
my  mother's  maiden  name.  He  has  found  me,  probably 
by  accident,  but  in  point  of  fact,  it  makes  no  difference 
how.  I  am  now  booked  to  supply  him  with  what 
money  I  can,  and  be  disgraced  by  him  in  the  end. 
I  value  your  friendship  more  than  anything  left  in 
my  life,  hence  I  advise  you  to  drop  out  from  the  ranks 
and  save  yourself  from  the  deluge  of  disgrace  which 
is  sure,  soon  or  late,  to  fall  on  my  defenceless  head.  " 

"  Poor  girl !  poor  girl !  poor  girl !  "  murmured  St. 
Claire  again  and  again  almost  inaudibly.  Then 
rousing  himself,  he  said  quietly  but  with  manly  firm 
ness,  "  Ola !  you  have  always  called  me  your  brother. 
Is  not  a  brother  born  for  affliction?  Let  me  help 
you  when  and  how  I  can ;  you  will  need  some  one 

46 


A  STCRY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

on  whom  to  rely.  We  won't  talk  any  more  about 
this  now,  for  you  are  over-excited.  But  remember  al 
ways,  my  girl,  I  am  not  your  brother  in  name  only, 
but  in  every  vicissitude  which  life  can  bring.  " 

Gradually  St.  Claire  led  the  conversation  along 
another  line  of  thought.  He  talked  to  her  beautifully, 
of  the  possibilities  of  her  future.  He  encouraged  her 
dream  of  fame.  When  he  left,  it  was  late — scandal 
ously  late — but  these  artists  did  not  mind  trifles ; 
their  virtue  needed  no  such  hedge  as  convent  hours. 
Poor  fellow,  he  thought  he  had  given  balm  to  her 
sore  heart.  He  was  scarcely  responsible  for  his 
ignorance ;  he  should  certainly  be  praised  for  his  good 
intentions. 


47 


CHAPTER     IV. 

"  Is     friendship  merely    a  term  used  to    express     an 
abstract  idea,  possessing  no  concrete  reality  ?  " 

Fallon  was  not  in  the  least  troubled  with  modesty 
in  making  his  demands  on  his  wife  for  money.  Ola 
was  in  possession  of  a  moderate  bank  account,  which 
she  had  jealously  guarded  through  all  her  vicissitudes 
and  which  she  had  even  increased  from  time  to  time 
through  great  sacrifice  and  effort,  that  it  might  one 
day  be  the  means  of  freeing  her  from  the  bondage  of 
pot-boiling  art,  typified  in  her  mind  by  "apoplectic 
tomatoes.  "  This  little  hoard  gradually  found  its  way 
to  the  gambling  table,  and  with  it  went  her  hopes 
and  dreams  of  future  study  which  was  to  lead  to 
higher  and  more  satisfying  accomplishments.  Then 
her  jewelry  disappeared.  She  worked  harder  than 
ever,  but  was  always  short  of  money.  She  gave 
up  the  studio,  and  did  her  work  at  home.  Nora  was 
dismissed,  to  cut  down  expenses.  "  Bronze  "  and  Nell 
only  roomed  with  her,  and  all  three  of  them  "  faked 
a  meal  at  home  "  as  Nell  expressed  it,  or  went  out. 
Gentlemen  who  were  thoughtful  enough  to  invite 
the  girls  to  dine,  were  at  a  premium. 

The  detestation  which  Ola  had  always  felt  for 
her  work  was  increased  a  hundred  fold,  since  she  could 
not  now  even  enjoy  the  price  of  her  labor.  As  the 
possibility  to  achieve  anything  in  the  way  of  fame, 
diminished,  her  longing  for  it  increased.  There  was  no 
price  she  would  not  have  paid  to  accomplish  her  ob 
ject.  Her  temperament  and  character,  not  her  con 
ceptions  of  morality,  saved  her  from  many  a  rash  im- 

48 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

pulse.  She  thought  of  all  sorts  of  wild  ventures.  She 
wanted  to  be  loved,  but  as  soon  as  a  man  told  her 
he  loved  her,  she  hated  him.  She  believed  nothing, 
and  with  strange  inconsistency,  hoped  everything.  She 
communed  more  and  more  with  her  dead  whom  she 
thought  of  as  dwelling  among  the  stars,  but  did  not 
in  the  least  believe  that  they  were  there.  She  became 
more  and  more  secretive  and  because  of  Will  Fallon, 
grew  to  distrust  and  hate  all  men. 

Not  even  to  Ned  St.  Claire  did  she  tell  the  actual 
state  of  her  distresses.  She  knew  the  depth,  sincerity, 
and  disinterestedness  of  Ned's  affection  for  her,  and 
yet  it  was  unsatisfactory.  It  was  full  of  willingness, 
but  it  lacked  the  element  of  power  to  do  it's  own 
behests.  She  was  forced  to  sustain  and  support 
others,  and  she  yearned  to  rest,  to  be  sheltered  and 
protected,  to  lay  aside  care. 

One  evening  she  exclaimed  to  St.  Claire,  who 
was  tryin-g  to  encourage  her,  "  Oh,  Ned,  I  know  you 
are  good.  What  a  pity  you  are  not  rich !  All  the 
good  Indians  are  dead  Indians;  all  the  good  pale  faces 
are  poor.  " 

"  I  think  not,  "  said  St.  Claire.  "  There  are  plenty 
of  good  men  who  have  money;  there  are  men  who 
would  be  just  as  glad  to  help  you,  and  encourage 
you,  as  I  am — and  men  who  have  the  power — but  the 
world  is  wide,  and  the  congenial  elements  have  got 
widely  separated.  " 

"  Worse  yet,  there  is  no  way  to  bring  them  to 
gether,  "  said  Ola  sadly. 

"  That  is  a  problem  which  would  at  least  require 
49 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

some  reflection,  before  a  conclusion  could  be  arrived 
at,  "  said  St.  Claire. 

Ola  laughed  at  him,  and  said,  "  What  man  by 
taking  thought  thereof  can  make  one  hair  white  or 
black.  " 

"  That's  a  chestnut,  Ola,  and  applicable  only  to 
the  times  before  hair  dye  was  invented.  If  you  will 
preserve  the  spirit  of  the  remark,  but  modify  its 
form,  by  saying  'add  one  cubit  to  his  stature' ,  I'm 
with  you,  but  I  draw  the  line  at  the  hair  dye.  " 

"Is  it  a  hair  line,  Ned?" 

"  Now  I  am  going  home.  When  you  begin  to 
pun,  count  me  out,  if  you  please." 

"I'll  stop,"  said  Ola,  "don't  be  in  a  hurry.  I 
hate  myself  and  almost  everybody  else,  except  you. 
I'll  be  good,  don't  leave  me  alone.  " 

"  It's  late,  my  girl,  and  I  want  you  to  get  more 
rest  than  you  have  been  having  of  late.  Do  you 
know  that  you  look  wretchedly,  this  Spring?  " 

"  Somehow  or  other  it  is  the  way  of  that  trickster, 
Spring,  to  make  us,  as  well  as  Mother  Earth,  look  like 
the  breaking  up  of  a  hard  winter.  I  feel 
bad,  Ned,  bad  enough,  indeed.  If  I  only  had  some 
thing  to  live  for,  something  to  work  for,  something  to 
love,  somebody  to  love  me,  I  think  I  could  brace  up, 
and  support  my  husband  with  better  grace.  " 

"  The  right  one  will  come  some  time ;  only  keep 
demanding  him  of  the  fates, "  said  Ned.  There  was 
a  slight  intonation  of  sorrow  in  his  voice,  but  Ola 
did  not  notice  it.  She  was  strangely  unobservant  of 
St.  Claire. 

50 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Ned  arose.  "  Are  you  determined  to  leave  me, 
Ned?"  said  Ola. 

"  For  thy  own  best  good,  child,  "  said  St.  Claire, 
and  he  put  on  a  clergyman  look. 

"  It  won't  be  for  my  good.  I  shall  rush  pell 
mell  into  all  the  bad  I  can  think  of.  " 

"  Good  night,  Ola.  Go  to  bed,  my  girl,  and  try 
to  get  that  tired,  haunted  look  out  of  your  eyes.  " 

When  she  was  alone  she  fell  to  thinking.  "  I 
wonder  if  any  body  ever  gets  what  he  wants. " 
Heavens !  if  I  deemed  it  even  among  the  possibili 
ties,  I  would  take  courage  and  try.  But  what  do  I 
want?  Not  a  husband,  for  I  have  one  now  whom  T 
would  gladly  bestow  upon  any  one  who  would  take 
him  off  my  hands.  A  lover?  I  know  several  am 
bitious  ones  in  that  line.  A  friend?  Well,  what  is 
Ned?  I  want  just  what  I  want,  and  I  cannot  tell 
what  that,  is  myself."  Idly  she  scribbled  on  a  piece  of 
paper,  thinking  the  while  of  the  lack  of  affinity  which 
every  soul  feels,  and  the  improbability  of  ever  find 
ing  it.  Scarce  knowing  what  she  did,  she  wrote : 

"  Is  friendship  merely  a  term  used  to  express  an 
abstract  idea,  possessing  no  concrete  reality?  Are 
manhood,  honor,  and  chivalry  gone  out  with  the 
Table  Round?  or  is  there  one  who  could,  and  would 
give  his  friendship,  in  the  noblest  signification  of  the 
term,  to  a  sorrowing  heart?" 

She  laughed  at  her  own  folly  when  she  had 
finished  this.  But  her  soul  had  made  its  call  and  the 
listening  Fates  set  about  answering  the  demand. 


CHAPTER    V. 
The  Prince,  The  Pirate,  The  Lieutenant. 

The  second  Sunday  in  the  month  of  May,  that 
year,  opened  upon  the  city  of  New  York,  and  its 
vicinity  with  a  fine,  drizzling  rain  and  nasty,  slushy 
streets.  They  were  indeed  good  people — or,  perhaps 
the  remark  should  be  amended  to  say :  they  were  in 
deed,  religous  people — who  went  to  church  through 
that  penetrating  rain.  Let  us  hope,  if  any  of  them 
caught  cold  and  died,  they  were  ushered  straight  into 
Heaven. 

On  this  same  Sunday  morning  in  the  month  of 
May,  Harold,  "Prince  of  the  House  of  York,"  sat  in  the 
reading  room  of  the  Hoffman  House,  perusing  the 
columns  of  a  New  York  newspaper.  Mr.  York  had 
lived  to  be  forty  years  of  age,  without  ever  for  one 
moment  having  suspected  that  he  was  a  prince.  None 
of  his  ancestors,  near  or  remote,  had  ever  suspected 
that  they  were,  or  could  be,  ancestors  of  a  prince  to 
the  manner  born. 

No,  York  did  not  know  that  he  was  a  prince.  He 
knew,  or  thought  he  knew,  that  he  was  a  broker 
doing  business  on  Wall  Street;  that  he  was  forty 
years  of  age,  five-feet-six  in  height,  and  in  weight 
about  one-hundred-and-thirty  pounds;  that  he  had 
brown  hair,  blue  eyes  and  even,  white  teeth. 

52 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

He  had  never  regarded  himself  as  possessed  of  any 
special  distinction  in  the  way  of  looks,  education, 
wealth,  or  good  or  bad  repute.  "  Just  ordinary,"  would 
have  been  his  summary  of  himself,  had  he  been  asked 
to  make  one. 

A  genuine,  thorough  New  Yorker,  he  had  ex 
perimented  in  almost  everything,  from  horse  jockey 
ing  to  Wall  Street.  When  he  was  young,  very  young, 
he  married  the  woman  he  loved;  one  of  his  friends 
taught  him  the  value  of  masculine  friendship  and 
the  frailty  of  women.  Since  that  bitter  awakening, 
no  thought  of  love  had  ever  entered  his  mind.  He 
lived  on  excitement  of  one  kind  or  another.  His 
transactions  were  commercial,  all  of  them.  He 
bought  what  he  wanted  in  the  open  mart,  and  paid 
for  it ;  in  money,  if  money  were  the  exchange  demand 
ed;  in  his  vitality,  when  he  stood  over  the  ticker. 
Probably  no  man  in  the  city  of  New  York  indulged 
less  in  sentimentality  than  Harold  York;  and  yet  all 
the  noblest  endowments  which  a  soul  may  possess, 
slumbered  within  him,  awaiting  only  the  right  voice 
to  awaken  them  from  their  lethargy. 

He  read  the  Sunday  paper.  As  he  was  a  broker, 
he  first  turned  to  the  stock  and  bond  reports.  Of 
course  he  knew  all  the  quotations  of  the  day  before. 
He  had  known  them  almost  from  the  instant  they 
were  made.  But  now  all  was  quiet  and  he  could  read, 
and  so  perhaps  amend  some  hasty  opinion  of  the  day 
before.  Every  one  has  a  fashion  of  his  own  in  read 
ing  the  daily  papers,  and  it  needs  no  conjurer  to  make 

53 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

a  pretty  shrewd  guess  as  to  the  taste  and  habits  of  the 
reader,  if  one  watches  him  in  his  perusal. 

Mr.  York  read  the  paper,  but  was  not  especially 
entertained.  The  morning  was  not  conducive  to 
complacency.  He  took  a  pencil  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
marked  some  advertisements  of  bonds  for  sale.  Then 
he  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do.  He  walked  to  the  plate- 
glass  windows  and  looked  out  at  the  drizzling  rain, 
and  the  mud  on  Broadway.  But  there  was  a  little 
fiend  jabbing  a  probe  into  his  memory.  After  a  few 
moments  reflection,  evidently  having  arrived  at  a  de 
cision,  he  felt  better.  Even  the  rain  seemed  inclined 
to  stop  and  there  was  an  occasional  clear  spot  on  the 
flagstones. 

"I'll  do  it  to-morrow,  as  sure  as  my  name  is 
Harold  York/'  he  said  with  decision  as  he  walked 
away  from  the  window. 

The  next  day  when  Mr.  York  reached  his  office, 
he  answered  some  advertisements  of  "bonds  to  sell.*' 
This  was  easy  work;  but  what  should  be  the  form 
of  the  next  letter  he  intended  to  write,  he  did  not 
know.  Some  one  came  into  the  office  and  distracted  his 
attention  by  asking  a  question  relative  to  business. 
He  answered  politely,  but  he  felt  vexed;  and  when 
the  door  was  closed  on  the  retreating  friend  he  arose 
and  locked  it.  That  eased-up  matters  a  little,  and  he 
wrote : 
"Mrs.  Ola  Del, 

"  My  dear  Madam : 

"  You  may  be  astonished  at  this  letter,  because 
we  are  so  slightly  acquainted,  but  you  cannot  be 

54 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

offended,  for  no  man  ever  meant  more  in  truth  and 
honor  what  I  now  mean  when  I  say  that  I  want  you 
to  be  my  wife. 

"  On  receipt  of  your  reply,  whatever  it  may  be, 
I  will  write  more  at  length. 

"  Yours  respectfully, 

"H.  S.  YORK." 

Then  he  read  his  letter  over  two  or  three  times. 
He  could  not  help  smiling,  and  he  said  to  himself, 
"  This  is  a  pretty  business  for  you,  Harold  York.  So 
you  want  to  marry  again,  do  you?  "  At  the  final  read 
ing  of  his  epistle,  a  look  of  satisfaction  settled  over 
his  features.  "  I  guess  that's  about  the  checker.  Yes, 
that  will  do,"  and  sealing  it  with  care,  he  picked  up 
his  other  letters  and  walked  out  of  the  office  to  de 
posit  it  with  his  own  hand.  At  this  juncture  of 
affairs  he  attempted  to  dismiss  the  whole  matter  from 
his  mind,  and  simply  await  developments.  But  a  good 
spirit  had  taken  possession  of  the  long  deserted 
chamber  of  his  heart,  and  from  that  hour,  those  senti 
ments  from  which  spring  chivalrous  actions  and 
noble  deeds,  spoke  their  protest  against  the  long 
bondage  in  which  he  had  kept  them.  From  that  hour 
he  was  a  better  and  a  happier  man. 

The  Pirate. 

On  the  Bowery,  near  Bond  Street,  there  is  a 
picture  store.  You  might  find  a  genuine  "  old 
master  "  there,  but  the  chances  are,  that  your  search 

55 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

would  be  rewarded  by  a  view  of  certain  dingy  veter 
ans  of  the  trade — the  "Virgin, "  the  "  Sacred 
Heart  of  Jesus,  "  the  "  Stations  of  the  Cross, "  and 
such-like  cullings,  grimy  enough  to  be  "  old,"  but 
scarcely  to  be  reckoned  as  "masterly."  In  this  dirty, 
dusty,  disorderly  shop,  on  that  same  Sunday  morn 
ing,  sat  Cyrus  W.  Bartlett,  the  proprietor.  Every 
thing  was  quiet  in  his  business.  Art  had  seemed  to 
be  in  little  or  no  demand  for  some  weeks.  Mr. 
Bartlett's  woman  Friday,  who  served  him  in  almost 
every  possible  capacity,  had  just  taker  her  slatternly 
person  out  of  the  store,  to  go  up  stairs  and  prepare 
for  their  midday  meal  the  odoriferous  food,  of  which 
the  poor  and  vulgar  seem  to  be  so  fond.  Left  alone, 
the  proprietor  of  this  art  establishment  fell  to  musing. 
The  man's  soul  was  stirred  with  ambition.  He 
was  moderately  rich,  and  he  had  gathered  his  gold 
by  putting  one  penny  on  top  of  another,  and  denying 
himself  every  deniable  comfort.  A  luxury,  in  his 
most  extravagant  moments,  he  never  even  dreamed 
of.  He  had  lived  cheaply;  his  wife  had  worked  hard 
all  her  life,  starving  and  saving  and  delving,  and 
had  paid  the  usual  penalty  of  this  folly  and  sin,  by 
dying  when  her  husband  had  accumulated  enough  to 
keep  her  in  comfort.  He  missed  her;  but  when  his 
thoughts  wandered  toward  matrimony,  his  fancy 
pictured  a  sweet,  gracious  creature,  with  dainty  ap 
parel,  soft  white  hands  and  refined  manners,  like  some 
of  the  artists  from  whom  he  bought  pictures  for  al 
most  nothing,  to  sell  again  to  one  or  another  of  his 
wealthy  customers  at  a  royal  profit. 

56 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Did  he  ever  reflect  what  would  be  the  feeling 
of  a  cultured,  refined  woman,  if  he  were  to  propose 
marriage  to  her?  Not  at  all;  the  conceit  which  goes 
with  human  nature,  especially  with  ignorance,  saw 
no  incongruity  in  a  marriage  between  himself  and 
any  woman  whom  he  might  fancy.  The  man  was 
fifty-five  years  old,  six-feet-two  in  height,  weighed 
about  two-hundred-and-fifteen  pounds,  and  was  well 
proportioned.  His  hair  was  thin  and  grey  and  his  face 
clean-shaven  and  much  marred  by  the  red  marks  of 
salt-rheum.  His  cat-green  eyes  were  round  and  snake- 
like;  his  lips,  thin  and  sensual ;  his  gums,  red  and  swol 
len  ;  his  teeth,  decayed  and  black — some  of  them  loose 
and  all  of  them  snaggy.  His  feet  were  large,  flat  and 
"  niggery. "  The  only  redeeming  member  of  his 
whole  anatomy  was. his  hand,  which,  though  large, 
was  white  and  beautiful  in  shape.  Nature,  and  Nature 
alone,  was  to  be  praised  for  this,  for  no  manicure 
had  ever  manipulated  those  fingers. 

Drudging  and  grubbing  and  delving  and  saving 
had  been  the  order  of  his  life.  Not  one  hour  of 
romance  had  he  ever  enjoyed.  Where  to  buy  cheap 
and  where  to  sell  at  a  big  profit,  had  been  his  care, 
and  how  to  educate  his  two  daughters  at  the  least  pos 
sible  expense.  He  loved  them ;  oh,  yes,  of  course  he 
did ;  but  they  must  not  cost  him  too  much  money ;  he 
would  need  this  fund  when  he  grew  old.  His  clothes 
were  shoddy  and  "kneey"  and  "elbowy"  and  shiny.  He 
blacked  his  own  boots,  when  they  were  blacked. 

Ah,  well !  there  he  sat,  in  his  dirty  store,  think 
ing,  hoping,  dreaming.  He  was  moved  with  a  desire  to 

57 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

shake  loose  from  all  the  shackles  of  his  past,  and 
live  a  little  before  he  died.  Yes,  he  would.  He  would 
do  it  at  once.  He  would  write  to  Her.  He  felt  hur 
ried  ;  he  would  not  like  to  have  that  slattern  of  a 
housekeeper  of  his  come  in  and  catch  him  at  this 
folly.  He  found  half  a  sheet  of  cheap  paper  and 
wrote : 

"  Sunday  noon,  May  Qth. 
"  Dearest  Lady. 

"  I  hope  to  be  excused  for  writing  to  you.  You 
and  I  has  done  a  good  lot  of  business,  but  maybe  you 
don't  know  that  I  am  a  widower  30  months  now,  and 
alone.  I  am  in  the  Blank  Art  Store  here  on  the 
Bowery  29  years  steady.  I  have  a  room  over  the  store 
here  free.  But  I  long  to  be  in  my  Own  Room  Again 
with  a  loveing  mate  to  have  it  for  her  Own  Room  to. 
I  have  2  children  (Girls)  but  they  are  away  of  to 
high  School  all  the  time  down  east  where  I  was  born, 
and  no  trouble  to  no  one.  I  have  no  one  to  Interfere 
or  say  Yes  or  No,  to  it.  I  hope  to  hear  from  My 
Dear  Girl  at  once,  my  Pet  as  I  hope  it  will  come.  I 
am  never  sick,  no  money  for  doctors,  but  always 
pleasant  and  good  natured  and  agreeable  and  its  the 
same  with  you  and  I  want  to  find  a  companion  to 
pass  my  life  with,  who  knows.  Write  Dearest  at 
once. 

" CYRUS  W.  BARTLETT. 

"  P.  S.    From  your  would  be  good  True  Friend.  " 
58 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Mr.  Bartlett  was  proud  of  that  letter.  He  ad 
dressed  an  envelope,  using  a  lead  pencil ;  crossed  the 
"t"  in  City,  with  a  grand  flourish.  He  put  a  stamp  on 
the  left-hand  corner  of  the  envelope,  on  the  bias, 
straightened  up  his  six-feet  two  and  started  for  the 
nearest  post-box.  Then  he  came  back  to  the  monotony 
of  his  life,  enjoyed  the  smell  of  the  cabbage  which  came 
floating  in  thick  currents  down  the  stairs,  and  fell  to 
passing  in  review  the  various  studios  and  other  places 
where  he  might  pick  up  a  bargain,  and  make  some 
more  money  at  the  expense  of  a  human  being  whose 
shoe-latchets  he  was  not  worthy  to  unloose.  Nor 
would  he,  at  the  moment,  have  scrupled  to  rob  Ola 
Del,  just  as  he  had  done  many  times  before. 

The  Lieutenant. 

On  the  platform  of  a  railroad  station  in  the  City 
of  Washington,  D.  C.,  on  that  same  Sunday  morning, 
stood  Lieutenant  Adrien  Benners,  an  officer  in  the 
United  States  Navy,  serving  on  the  Revenue  Cutter 
"  Grant, "  and  just  now  returning  from  a 
visit  to  the  home  of  his  childhood  in  Virginia.  It 
was  rainy  and  nasty  and  slushy  in  Washington,  also, 
that  morning;  but  no  such  trifle  as  rain  and  slush  af 
fected  the  Lieutenant.  To  him,  life  was  worth  living. 
There  was  but  an  instant  to  spare  before  his  train 
would  pull  out.  He  bought  a  newspaper,  boarded  the 
cars  and  in  a  few  moments  was  steaming  towards  New 
York,  bringing  with  him  his  youth,  his  beauty,  his 
joy  of  life,  and  his  sweet  little  "  Southern  Confederacy'' 

59 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

accent.  Be  it  understood  that  Lieutenant  Benners 
was  never  at  a  loss  for  ladies  to  caress  him  and  love 
him  and  spoil  him.  In  whatever  port  his  ship  weighed 
anchor,  there  the  gods  and  the  goddesses  were  good 
to  him.  Therefore  it  was  not  the  fear  of  any  lack  of 
amusement  (for  that  was  the  depth  of  the  passion  of 
love  with  him)  which  prompted  him  to  think  pleas 
antly  of  Ola  Del.  It  was  simply  that  he  was  alone,  and 
had  time  to  think.  There  was  a  certain  charm  in  the 
woman  which  he  did  not  find  in  others;  a  charm 
which — Well,  he  was  not  in  the  least  afraid  to  ask. 
That  was  his  privilege.  "  When  I  reach  the  '  Grant,' " 
said  he  to  himself,  "  I  will  write  her.  " 

Arrived  at  his  vessel  he  was  received  by  his 
brother-officers  in  various  ways.  Lewes  shook  the 
Lieutenant's  hand  cordially,  and  expressed,  in  every 
way,  his  pleasure  at  having  his  chum  back  again. 
They  two  were  "off"  the  same  day  and  evening,  and 
were  the  best  of  friends.  Cameron  was  quite  effusive 
in  his  reception,  but  the  Lieutenant  had  his  doubts 
about  Cameron's  sincerity.  A  favorite  topic  with 
Cameron  was  the  fidelity  and  honor  due  from  one 
gentleman  to  another  in  matters  of  love.  With  marked 
emphasis  he  assured  his  friends  on  board  the  "  Grant,  " 
that  it  was  only  necessary  for  him  to  know  that  one 
of  his  brother-officers  had  a  previous  claim  upon  any 
woman's  affections — that  would  be  enough  to  prevent 
him  forever  from  wooing  there.  But  Ben 
ners  felt  uneasy.  He  thought  the  gentleman  "  did 
protest  too  much. "  The  Lieutenant  was  obliged  to 
admit  that  Cameron  was  handsome,  even  handsomer 

6c 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

than  he  was  himself.  As  a  principle,  he  knew  thor 
oughly  well  that  honor  nearly  always  goes  down 
when  attacked  by  selfishness;  so  he  took  precious 
good  care  not  to  present  Cameron  to  any  of  his 
sweethearts  and  he  kept  as  dark  as  possible  about 
what  he  did. 

Lewes  clasped  Benners'  hand  like  a  brother,  and 
the  Lieutenant  felt  glad  that  he  had  such  a  comrade. 
Cameron  gushed,  and  used  a  multitude  of  adjectives. 
Captain  Calhoun  received  the  Lieutenant  with  the 
dignity  due  himself,  as  the  superior  officer.  In  his 
heart,  the  Captain  nursed  the  wound  and  fanned  the 
flame  of  an  old  grudge  against  Benners.  It  was 
"  that  affair  at  Newport. "  There  was  a  woman 
whom  the  Captain  really  loved.  One  evening  when 
the  "  Grant "  was  at  Newport  the  Captain  called  upon 
this  woman.  She  was  out;  so  the  servant  told  him. 
This  hurt  the  "  True  Heart,  "  because  he  had  written 
her  that  he  was  coming.  Not  knowing  what  to  do  with 
himself,  he  strolled  into  the  theatre.  There  was  his 
sweetheart  with  Lieutenant  Benners,  and  a  love- 
light  was  on  her  face — a  love-light  the  like  of  which 
he  had  never  been  able  to  call  there.  He  cursed  his 
folly  for  gratifying  the  woman's  curiosity  to  see  the 
"  Grant "  and  her  officers,  and  swore  he  would 
commit  that  folly  no  more;  moreover,  he  would  bide 
his  time  and  one  of  these  days  he  would  even-up 
matters  with  his  handsome  Lieutenant. 

The  Captain  returned  to  his  sweetheart;  he  could 
not  help  it ;  he  loved  her ;  and  that  was  where  she  had 
the  best  of  him.  His  dignity  was  safe ;  for,  fortunate- 

61 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

ly,  neither  the  woman  nor  the  Lieutenant  had  seen 
him.  The  next  time  the  Captain  saw  his  lady-love  he 
asked  her  why  she  had  gone  out  when  she  expected 
him. 

"  My  sister's  child  is  ill,"  she  replied  quite  easily, 
"  and  I  went  to  watch  by  the  little  fellow  and  so  re 
lieve  his  mother.  " 

This  was  perfectly  true,  for  Lieutenant  Benners 
had  taken  her  there  from  the  play.  But  the  Captain 
did  not  know  it,  and  he  said  to  himself,  "  She  not 
alone  deceives  me  but  she  lies  about  it.  " 

The  woman  had  one  of  those  elastic  consciences 
which  find  justification  for  considering  a  statement 
above  the  average,  if  half  true.  She  said :  "  Half  true  is 
more  than  I  get  from  him;"  in  which  she  wronged 
the  Captain  greatly.  He  might,  at  times,  have  acted 
like  a  grouchy  old  bear,  but  he  was  an  honest-hearted, 
true  lover. 

That  was  the  Newport  affair,  and  it  furnished 
additional  incentive  for  the  Captain  always  to  pay 
due  respect  to  the  superiority  .of  his  rank.  Hence 
he  received  Lieutenant  Benners  politely — but  only 
politely —  nothing  more.  All  congratulations  and  wel 
comes  being  over,  Benners  went  to  his  room,  opened 
his  desk  and  wrote : 

"Ola: 

"  May  I  see  you  Tuesday  afternoon  or  evening? 

"ADRIEN." 


62 


CHAPTER     VI. 
A  Shadow  is  Cast. 

These  letters  from  the  "  Prince,  "  the  "  Pirate,  " 
and  the  Lieutenant,  Ola  received  by  the  first  delivery 
of  mail  on  Monday  morning.  To  the  "  Pirate's  "  letter 
she  paid  no  attention  whatever.  To  the  Lieutenant 
she  wrote  one  word,  "  Yes.  "  To  Mr.  York : 

"  If  you  should  marry,  you  have  my  best  wishes 
that  you  may  draw  a  prize.  I  shall  never  marry;  I 
have  no  heart  to  give.  I  would  not  deceive  a  good 
man ;  nor  would  I  wed,  if  I  knew  it,  one  who  could 
be  content  without  all  the  best  love  of  his  wife.  The 
first  and  foremost  duty  of  everyone  is  to  be  honest. 
When  a  woman  becomes  a  wife,  she  takes  upon  her 
self  duties  .and  obligations.  Those  duties  are  not  re 
stricted  to  her  holding  in  absolute  respect  the  name 
she  bears;  but  she  should  give  to  her  husband  a  heart 
which  holds  his  interests,  his  image  and  a  desire  to 
merge  her  entire  being  into  his.  This  is  not  in  my 
power  to  do.  The  love  of  a  good  man  would  be  « 
comfort,  a  great  comfort  to  me.  But  if  my  husband 
could  give  me,  in  himself,  the  concentration  of  all 
conceivable  merit,  the  wealth  and  luxuries  of  a 
queen,  without  the  care  and  responsibility  of  royalty, 
and  should  say  to  me :  '  My  Love,  I  cannot  share  you 
with  the  public ;  you  must  cast  your  brush  aside  and 
think  no  more  of  Fame, '  I  would  not  accept  his 

6.3 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

offer,  for  I  know  I  could  not  comply  with  its  condi 
tions.  Were  I  ever  so  anxious  to  do  so,  I  positively 
could  not ;  so  I  would  not  try. 

"  The  work  I  am  doing  now,  I  do  because  I 
must;  but  it  is  exceedingly  uncongenial  and  distaste 
ful  to  me.  I  spend  about  all  my  time,  in  which  I  am 
not  engaged  in  making  '  apoplectic  tomatoes, '  (that 
means  any  disagreeable  work,)  in  melancholy  re 
flections  upon  what  I  must,  and  what  I  would  like 
to  do.  I  have  no  taste  for  dissipation ;  my  very  nature 
rebels  against  anything  that  is  low  and  common,  and 
there  seems  to  be  no  immediate  prospect  of  my  being 
in  a  position  to  do  the  thing  which  would  give  a  zest 
to  my  life. 

"  This  shadow  was  cast  in  the  sunshine  (some 
are  not).  Let  it  linger  by  your  side.  I  do  not  know 
if  the  sun  will  ever  shine  on  a  love  between  you  and 
me  or  not ;  but  at  any  rate  I  send  the  shadow  of  your 
friend, 

"  OLA  DEL.  " 
***** 

"  Poor  little  thing:"  York  said  to  himself,  as  he 
looked  at  the  photograph  she  had  enclosed.  "  She 
shall  have  what  her  heart  craves  so  much.  She  shall ! 
I  am  longing  for  congenial  companionship,  where  love, 
affection  and  respect  will  be  returned.  If  you  can  re 
turn  a  part  of  the  love  I  am  capable  of  bestowing  on 
you,  I  will  make  you  the  happiest  little  woman  in 
creation.  Since  I  came  to  love  you,  I  have  no  desire 
to  gamble  on  the  stock  exchange.  What  I  have 
wanted  and  needed  for  vears,  darling,  is  some  one 

64 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

like  you  to  keep  me  straight.  "  Thus  did  Harold  York 
talk  to  the  dumb  shadow  of  Ola  Del.  Then  he  laugh 
ed,  in  no  way  discouraged  at  her  refusal  to  marry  him. 

"  I  play  every  game  I  do  play,  to  win.  I  will 
make  her  independent  of  the  pirates  of  art,  or  of  any 
one  else  who  may  be  in  her  way  of  success.  I  love 
her;  and  in  my  love  it  seems  as  if  I  have  been  born 
again.  I  now  feel  that  I  have  a  care,  and  that  is 
Ola  Del.  I  must  close  up  those  things  which  can 
be  closed  up  and  will  bring  me  immediate  funds.  I 
am  a  money-maker  and  I  will  convince  her  of  the  fact; 
for  I  not  alone  love  her  but  I  worship  her,  and  I  will 
prove  to  her  that  I  can  and  will  be  her  friend,  her 
patron,  her  brother;  and  that  she  will  not  have  to 
display  an  affection  for  me  which  she  does  not,  nor 
cannot  feel,  in  order  to  claim  all  that  is  mine  or  ever 
may  become  mine ;  for  I  am  forever  devotedly  hers.  " 

In  his  own  way  and  at  his  own  times  Mr.  York 
gave  Ola  -to  understand  that  to  wed  or  not  to  wed 
was  not  the  vital  point  with  him.  To  be  her  friend, 
her  patron,  her  brother,  to  place  at  her  command  him 
self  and  his  worldly  all,  would  be,  in  itself,  more  than 
ample  happiness  for  him.  Unable  to  arrive  at  any 
conclusion  with  reference  to  Mr.  York,  Ola  decided 
to  consult  Ned  St.  Claire. 

"  The  only  way  I  can  measure  the  man,  is  to 
look  for  his  object.  If  Mr.  York  were  trifling  with 
you,  I  think  he  would  have  shown  it  long  ago.  I 
know  you  have  little  enough  faith  in  a  germ  of  good 
ness  in  man ;  but  there  is  such  a  thing,  my  girl ;  and 
I  am  of  the  impression  that  in  Harold  York  you  have 

65 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

drawn  a  prize.  At  any  rate,  no  woman  that  ever 
lived  knows  better  how  to  take  care  of  herself  than 
you  do.  " 

But  Ola  did  not  talk  to  Ned  about  Lieutenant 
Benners,  nor  tell  him  that  on  the  following  evening 
her  heart  would  listen  for  a  certain  ring  at  her  bell. 
"  Even  to  the  best  of  brothers  all  should  not  be  told,  " 
she  said  to  herself.  And  when  that  "  following 
evening "  was  at  hand  and  with  it  the  Lieutenant, 
if  she  was  happy,  or  why,  she  could  not  say. 

He  took  from  his  pocket  and  presented  to  her 
a  photograph  of  himself  taken  in  uniform — a  very 
poor  one,  he  said.  Then  he  sihowed  her  another  of 
two  beautiful  young  women;  they  were  his  sisters  in 
Virginia.  He  had  just  returned  from  a  visit  there,  he 
explained.  She  looked  at  the  picture  carefully;  there 
was  the  same  partrician  look  in  the  photograph  of  the 
girls,  that  so  marked  their  brother;  for  even  a  photo 
graph  will  betray  the  character  and  disposition  of  the 
original,  if  you  scan  it  closely  enough.  While  she 
gazed,  she  listened  to  what  he  was  saying  about  his 
sisters. 

He  described  them  as  being  typical  Southern 
girls,  beautiful  and  lovable.  He  spoke  of  how  happy 
they  and  the  rest  of  his  family  had  been  at  having 
him  with  them  again  in  the  old  home,  and  how  re 
luctant  they  were  to  have  him  leave.  . 

"  You  love  them  very  much,  do  you  not?  "  said 
Ola. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  replied.  "  I  love  them.  I  am  sure 
I  would  be  willing  to  suffer  anything,  if  by  so  doing 

66 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

they  would  be  made  happy.  Yes,  I  love  them.  In 
deed  I  love  them.  " 

A  look  of  boyish,  ingenuous  love  shone  from  his 
beautiful  eyes,  as  he  called  up  the  picture  of  that 
home  life  in  Virginia.  All  the  intrigues  of  the  naval 
officer,  Banners,  were  for  the  instant  banished;  even 
Ola,  at  that  moment,  was  sacred  to  him,  because  she, 
like  his  mother  and  sisters,  was  a  woman.  The  nobler 
traits  of  the  man  were  reflected  in  his  face  and  eyes. 

Then  "  Bronze  "  and  Jack  came  into  the  parlor ; 
Jack  was  waiting  for  Nell,  and  they  were  going  out 
for  ices,  for  it  was  hot,  awfully  hot.  Ned  St.  Claire 
also  dropped  in  before  the  evening  was  over,  an  occur- 
rance  which,  in  fact  was  his  almost  nightly  habit. 
With  the  exception  of  Nell  and  Jack,  who  were  at  all 
times  sufficient  for  each  other,  there  were  uncomfor 
table  feelings  in  the  breasts  of  all,  that  evening. 

"  Bronze  "  was  dying  for  a  flirtation  with  Lieu 
tenant  Benners,  but  she  was  a  little,  though  only  just 
a  little,  too  honest  to  begin  any  intrigue  right  under 
Ola's  eyes.  Ned  St.  Claire  never  did  like  that  "  navy 
chap,  "  and  he  always  showed  it  plainly  enough.  Ned 
was  jealous  of  Ola's  confidence  in  him  and  her  depend 
ence  upon  his  judgment.  Sure  that  in  this  affair  there 
was  something  she  was  keeping  secret,  he,  as  naturally 
as  it  was  unjust,  vented  his  wrath  upon  Lieutenant 
Benners.  Ned  felt  "  de  trop"  that  night,  and  neither 
blandishments  nor  badgering  could  induce  him  .to 
stay.  "  Bronze "  also  knew  that  she  was  one  too 
many,  but  she  would  have  given  the  moon  if  she 
could  have  manufactured  an  excuse  for  remaining;  she 

67 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

could  not  find  one  however,  so  she  gracefully  said  her 
good  nights,  and  the  Lieutenant  and  Ola  were  alone. 
About  eleven  o'clock,  having  expressed  his  de 
light  at  seeing  her  again,  and  his  desire  to  place  him 
self  at  her  disposal  for  any  amusement  the  City  of 
New  York  offered,  he  was  gone;  and  she  was  alone. 
Restlessly  happy,  restlessly  unhappy,  her  fingers 
drew  forth  from  the  piano  the  plaintive  strains  of  the 
old  plantation  melody,  "  Way  Down  Upon  The 
Suwannee  River."  Had  Lieutenant  Benners'  musical 
voice  left  an  echo  in  her  heart?  Was  there  a  spirit 
from  the  voluptuous  South  hovering  near  her? — A 
spirit  that  wooed  her  consent  to  be  good  to  this  son  of 

theF.  F.  Vs? 

***** 

Each  day  brought  its  drudgery  of  uncongenial 
work  to  Ola.  Each  week  she  knew  she  must,  starving 
or  fasting,  send  his  hush  money  to  Will  Fallen. 
There  were,  in  addition  to  occasional  calls,  three  or 
four  letters  every  week  from  her  "  Prince,  "  as  she 
had  come  to  call  Harold  York.  Upon  just  two  strings 
was  his  harmony  played :  the  financial  enterprises  he 
had  in  hand,  and  his  love  for  her;  and  every  letter 
from  him  inspired  her  with  courage,  patience,  hope. 
All  that  was  ideal  and  romatic  within  her  responded 
to  his  call.  Thus  were  these  two  people  in  love  with 
each  other  in  a  most  beautiful  and  satisfactory  way. 
He  was  in  love  with  a  creature  of  his  own  imagina 
tion.  Perhaps  all  are,  while  Love  remains  Love — that 
is,  before  it  evolves  into  Congeniality,  Respect,  Friend 
ship.  She  was  in  love  with  the  beauty  and  purity  of 

68 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

his  sentiments  towards  her.  No  language  can  ex 
press  what  the  words,  "  My  Prince, "  meant  to  her. 

When  she  sat  by  her  window  and  looked  up  at 
the  stars,  thinking  of  her  beloved  dead — of  those  who, 
if  in  the  universe,  were  freed  from  the  trammels  of 
the  flesh,  she  grouped  the  "  Prince "  among  those 
pure  ones.  She  had  ceased  even  to  think  of  him  ex 
cept  in  some  idealized,  purified  way;  and,  naturally 
enough,-  her  own  conduct  towards  him  was  a  reflex 
of  her  nobler  self — her  spiritual,  sexless  self.  In  all 
this  big  world,  he  was  the  one  creature  of  the  male 
creation  which  the  hand  of  God  had  ever  formed  that 
was  free  from  impurities;  and  he  belonged  to  her; 
was  living  for  her,  working  for  her,  and  she  was1  thank 
ful  for  it.  Why?  she  never  asked. 

Every  woman's  nature  contains  a  strong  element 
of  hero-worship  and  this  in  Ola  went  forth  in  all  its 
force  to  Harold  York. 

Meanwhile  each  week  if  the  "  Grant  "  were  in 
New  York,  also  brought  Lieutenant  Benners  once  or 
twice.  He  was  a  man  skilled  in  all  those  arts  by  which 
women  are  won,  and  which  seldom,  if  ever,  are  the 
tokens  of  a  sincere  and  loyal  nature.  He  knew  that 
a  single  flower,  taken  from  his  own  button-hole  and 
pinned  on  a  woman's  bosom  by  his  hand,  while  he 
made  proper  use  of  his  glorious  eyes,  would  insure 
him  forgiveness  if  he,  naughtily  enough,  pressed  his 
own  red  lips  to  hers.  He  knew  that  when  he  said: 
"  How  pretty  your  dress  is,  dear !  Stand  up  and  let 
me  see  how  it  fits  and  how  the  skirt  hangs, "  and  then 
looked  his  approval  as  only  he  knew  how  to  look, 

69 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

he  would  surely  be  forgiven  if,  yielding  to  the  temp 
tation,  he  were  to  draw  that  beautiful  dress  up  close 
to  him.  He  knew  it.  He  had  tried  it  many,  many 
times  with  women  in  every  port  where  his  ship 
weighed  anchor ;  and  he  had  never  known  it  to  fail. 

In  the  art  of  making  conquests  among  women, 
Lieutenant  Benners  was  a  past  master.  This  art  is 
not  difficult  to  learn,  is  not  worth  anything  after  it 
has  been  learned.  It  is  better  for  any  man  to  be  sin 
cere,  and  to  win,  in  an  honorable  way,  the  love  of  one 
good  woman,  and  then  to  merge  his  interests  in  life 
with  hers,  than  to  make  conquests  by  subtilties;  to 
enjoy  a  delirium  for  a  time,  and  at  the  end  to  feel  that 
with  the  exception  of  his  own  mother,  no  woman, 
however  much  she  may  have  yielded  to  his  arts,  has 
ever  really  loved  him — loved  him  with  a  love  that 
means  admiration  and  spells  self-sacrifice. 

That  conscience  of  Lieutenant  Benners,  was  not 
primed  against  conquest.  He  carried  his  sea-swagger 
on  land  with  him,  accommodated  himself  to  the 
motion  of  waves,  where  there  were  no  waves,  and  his 
conscience  leaned  to  the  larboard  or  starboard,  just  in 
accordance  with  the  side  upon  which  opportunity 
offered. 

He  and  Ola  were  standing  one  evening  by  the 
open  window,  looking  up  at  the  stars.  As  the  night 
was  hot,  the  gas  had  not  been  lighted  and  a  fitful 
sluggish  little  breeze  that  now  and  then  stirred  the 
draperies  at  the  windows  and  the  wayward  curls  at 
Ola's  white  throat  became  dangerously  languorous. 

She  herself  looked  very  sweet  and  mysterious  as 
70 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

the  light  from  the  street  lamp  below  caught,  now  and 
then  the  clinging  folds  of  her  India  silk  gown.  Yes, 
there  is  no  denying  it,  the  way  her  gown  clung  here 
and  there  in  its  alluring  softness,  proved  it  an  artful 
ally  of  the  daring  Lieutenant's  too  ready  impulses.  As 
though  unconscious  of  his  act,  he  rested  his  hand 
lightly  upon  her  rounded  shoulder,  as  he  spoke  of  the 
beauty  of  the  night. 

She  made  no  remark  but,  with  an  apparent  uncon 
sciousness  equal  to  his,  crossed  to  the  other  window 
and  sat  down  in  a  large  arm-chair.  But  that  provoking 
gown  of  hers,  true  to  the  contract  it  had  evidently 
made  with  the  inner  forces  of  the  man,  settled  here  and 
there  anew,  and  the  light  from  the  street  half  con 
cealed  and  vaguely  revealed,  as  dim  lights  will. 

But  the  Lieutenant,  not  to  be  thwarted  in  the  first 
step  of  a  game  he  knew  so  well,  paced  non 
chalantly  up  and  down  the  room  a  few  times  and 
then,  without  appearing  to  do  so  with  intent,  he 
again  stood  beside  her. 

"  How  glorious  the  stars  are  and  how  clear  the 
sky!  "  he  said.  "  It  reminds1  me  of  a  night  in  Asia"  and 
then,  as  she  remained  silent,  he  gently  sank  down 
until  he  was  sitting  on  the  broad  arm  of  her  chair,  and 
as  gently  laid  his  arm  along  the  back  just  above  her 
shapely  head.  After  a  pause  he  bent  and  kissed  her 
forehead  where  her  hair  rested  softest  against  her 
white  skin. 

She  did  not  move  or  resent  it,  but  the  Lieutenant 
was  judicious;  he  had  gone  far  enough  for  one  night 
and  he  soon  after  took  his  leave. 

71  .      • 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

If  the  Lieutenant  had  told  the  "  Banker  "  or  Ned 
St.  Claire  or  Jack  or  any  man  of  her  acquaintance 
what  he  had  done  and  how  this  woman  had  received 
it,  they  would  simply  have  believed  him  a  lying, 
bragging  rascal.  But  facts  are  stubborn  things. 

At  their  next  meeting  he  pinned  some  of  the  car 
nations  he  had  brought  upon  her  white  dress. 

"  That  is  very  pretty,  dear,  he  said,  drawing  her 
down  beside  him  on  a  tete-a-tete.  It  is  a  beautiful 
contrast  with  your  white  dress ;  only  there  should  be 
more  green  leaves.  I  will  remember  that  the  next 
time.  " 

Then  he  leaned  down  and  kissed  her  lips.  She 
did  not  move  nor  speak.  He  took  her  hand,  and,  bend 
ing  his  head  low,  he  drew  her  arm  around  his  neck 
and  rested  his  head  on  her  shoulder. 

He  did  not  attempt  any  further  endearments  on 
that  occasion. 

The  next  time  he  came,  however,  without  ado,  he 
clasped  her  closely  to  him,  and  talked  to  her  in  that 
soft,  musical  voice ;  and  with  his  sweet,  Southern 
accent  he  called  her  a  "dear  girl ;"  and  said  a  great 
deal  about  how  happy  he  would  be  if  he  knew  that 
she  loved  him ;  if  he  could  feel,  when  his  ship  was 
entering  port,  that  she  would  be  glad  to  see  him. 

"  It  never  stormed  too  hard  for  me  to  go  ashore 
if  I  knew  there  was  someone  there  who  was  waiting 
for  me,  dear.  " 

He  assumed  a  trifle  of  jealousy  of  Ned  St.  Claire, 
and  she  laughed  at  him.  He  was  not  jealous  in  the 

72 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

least,  but  he  thought  that  it  would  please  her,  if  she 

thought  him  so. 

***** 

Ola  and  the  Lieutenant  had  been  to  a  concert, 
and  they  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  house  in  which  she 
lived.  She  had  never  permitted  her  escorts  to  go  up 
stairs  with  her  after  a  performance,  nor  had  she  any 
intention  of  letting  him,  now;  but  he  looked  at  her 
with  those  glorious  eyes,  and  said,  "  Must  I  kiss  you 
good-night  here,  dear?" 

"  Don't  you  want  to?  " 

"  Not  if  I  may  do  better.  I  would  like  to  sit 
and  talk  with  you  a  while.  I  think  we  leave  to-mor 
row  or  the  day  following,  to  be  gone  for  a  week  or 
so.  That  is  a  long  time  to  wait.  " 

She  gave  him  the  latch  key,  he  opened  the  door 
and  they  went  up  stairs  together.  There  he  drew 
the  pins  out  of  her  hat  and  took  it  off.  He  was  as 
skilled  with  woman's  toggery  as  if  he  had  worn  it  all 
his  life. 

"Shall  you  miss  me  when  I  am  gone,  dear?" 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall.  " 

"  Oh,  now,  don't  say  you  are  afraid." 

Again  he  drew  her  arm  around  his  neck,  rested 
his  head  on  her  shoulder,  and  talked  soft  and  low ; 
talked  about  the  pleasure  of  being  loved.  He  wasn't 
much  given  to  speak  of  loving;  he  dwelt  ever  upon 
being  loved. 

"  If  I  knew  you  loved  me,  I  should  think  of  it  all 
the  time  I  am  gone,"  he  said. 

"Well,  don't  you  know  it?"  she  said  as  she 
73 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

gently  stroked  his  face  with  her  hand;  he,  the  while, 
looking  at  her,  looking  into  her  eyes,  his  own  aglow 
with  passion. 

"  Not  yet,"  he  said.  And  he  laughed,  and  drew 
her  down  to  his  lips  and  held  her  there. 

All  power  to  think  or  act,  left  her.  She  had  no 
trouble  of  any  kind.  She  had  no  ambition ;  there  was 
no  vampire  of  a  husband  preying  upon  her  vitality ; 
she  had  no  self-respect  to  lose;  there  was  no  grand, 
noble,  Prince  of  the  House  of  York  who  loved  her  with 
a  purity  and  beauty  unequalled.  All  these  were  ban 
ished  as  by  a  magician's  wand.  One  motive,  and  one 
only,  existed  for  her.  She  was  charged  with  one  all- 
consuming  desire.  She  was  just  as  much  subject  to 
him,  just  as  much  a  part  of  him,  as  was  his  own 
right  hand,  and  responded  as  naturally  to  his  will.  The 
only  difference  between  her  and  any  member  of  his 
body  that  moved  at  his  command,  was  that  there  re 
mained  with  her  an  unreasoning  joy  and  happiness. 
She  did  not  wish  to  please  him,  she  had  no  desire. 
The  words  "  desire  "  and  "  wish,  "  signify  a  measure 
of  dissatisfaction;  but  she  was  happy  with  an  animal 
happiness  that  knows  not  wish,  knows  not  desire, 

knows  not  thought. 

****** 

The  "Grant"  sailed  two  days  later;  but  before 
he  left  port,  Lieutenant  Benners  wrote  to  Ola: 

"  Sunday,  6:30  p.  m. 
"  Dear  Friend : 

"  Only  a  few  lines  to  say  I  arrived  home  all  right, 
74 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

and  feel  first  rate  after  my  morning  sleep.   Trust  you 
feel  as  well. 

"  This  morning,  for  the  first  time  in  many  months, 
I  saw  the  day  break ;  and,  as  well  as  I  like  my  bed,  it 
was  worth  being  up  early  to  see.  Did  you  sleep  all 
day,  or  were  you  up  as  usual?  I  had  breakfast  at 
eight,  then  went  to  bed  for  a  second  time. 

"  In  my  room  it  is  almost  dark,  I  can  scarcely  see 
how  to  write ;  but  this  will  let  you  know  that  I  am 
thinking  of  you,  and  would  like  to  be  where  you  are; 
now,  more  than  ever.  Good  bye  until  I  return.  Take 
good  care  of  yourself,  and  believe  me  always  your 
friend, 

"  A.  C.  B.  " 


CHAPTER     VII. 

"  To  lighten  the  load  she  threw  her  handsome  Lieu 
tenant  over-board." 

"  That  Revenue  Cutter  '  Grant '  must  be  a 
wonderful  reducer  of  temperature,"  thought  Ola. 
"  Who  would  ever  imagine  that  letter  to  be  from  an 
ardent  lover?  He  was  a  lover  day  before  yesterday; 
and,  after  a  fashion,  quite  an  ardent  one ;  to-day  he  is 
an  officer  in  the  Navy.  Perhaps  there  is  as  much  dif 
ference  between  the  two,  as  there  is  between  this  let 
ter  and  the  one  I  expected.  " 

Now  she  could  think,  now  she  could  reason,  now 
she  could  hate  him,  and  loathe  and  despise  herself. 
By  her  own  act,  she  was  placed  in  that  most  uncom 
fortable  of  all  uncomfortable  positions — she  could  not 
respect  herself. 

In  view  of  the  position  of  affairs  betwen  herself 
and  Will  Fallon,  with  the  knowledge  that  by  his  death 
only,  could  she  marry  again ;  she  would  have  felt 
justified  in  even  the  "  unauthorized  "  love  of  a  good 
man,  but  Lieutenant  Benners  did  not  love  her,  and 
she  knew  it  thoroughly  well.  In  fact,  the  Lieutenant 
talked  little  of  love.  He  called  her  "  Dear  "  and  "  You 
dear  girl.  "  He  was  mindful  of  those  little  niceties 
which  a  gentleman  extends  to  any  woman;  but  for 
an  unmistakable  indication  of  love,  she  looked  in  vain. 

During  this  time  she  was  agitated  by  strange 
emotions.  She  subjected  everything  the  Lieutenant 

76 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

said  or  did,  to  microscopic  inspection.  And  the 
microscope,  true  to  its  nature,  revealed  horrors.  If 
he  came  often,  he  was  good  to  himself.  If  he  remained 
away  a  long  time,  he  was  untrue  to  her.  (She  had 
sworn  him  to  fidelity.  He  took  the  oath  readily 
enough,  and  repudiated  it  in  less  than  a  week.) 

When  he  was  not  with  her,  and  she  had  viewed 
him  for  a  long  time  under  the  microscope,  she  so 
hated  him,  that  she  wished  the  "  Grant  "  and  every 
soul  on  board,  would  go  down  to  the  bottom  of  the 
sea;  if  he  called  that  very  evening,  and  looking  at 
her  with  his  glorious  eyes,  and  drew  her  up  to  him, 
and  said,  "  You  dear  girl,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you. 
I  should  have  been  awfully  disappointed  if  there  had 
been  no  light  in  the  window,"  she  forgave  him  every 
thing.  (The  light  in  the  window  was  her  beacon  to 
guide  him  to  her,  she  had  told  him,  and  he  looked 
for  it  as  soon  as  he  turned  the  corner.)  As  soon  as 
he  saw  -her,  and  caressed  her,  and  talked  to  her,  he 
transformed  her  into  an  unthinking,  happy  being.  At 
such  times  there  was  no  crime  on  earth  she  would 
not  have  committed  for  him.  She  would  have  de 
ceived  the  very  elect  of  heaven  for  him. 

When  he  was  with  her,  she  put  her  bare  arms 
around  his  neck,  and  begged  him  to  come  again  soon. 
When  he  was  away,  she  wished  he  would  never  come. 

At  each  such  revulsion  of  feeling  she  instinctively 
flew  to  the  "  Prince  "  for  comfort.  She  poured  out 
all  her  aching  heart  to  him ;  she  talked  of  deeds  that 
live  forever  in  the  memory  of  men;  of  work,  of  study, 
of  art. 

77 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

From  that  source  she  seemed  to  draw  holy  in 
spirations.  Her  words  to  the  "  Prince "  bore  the 
spirit  of  the  psalms  of  the  heart-broken  old  King 
David ;  those  to  the  Lieutenant,  the  voluptuous  amo 
rousness  of  his  son  Solomon.  To  the  "  Prince  "  she 
pleaded,  "  Satisfy  my  longing  soul,  and  fill  my  hun 
gry  soul  with  goodness,  "  to  the  Lieutenant,  "  Thou 
hast  ravished  my  heart  with  thine  eyes.  His  left  hand 
should  be  under  my  head,  and  his  right  hand  should 
embrace  me.  "  "  Set  me  as  a  seal  upon  thine  heart,  as 
a  seal  upon  thine  arm :  for  love  is  strong  as  death. " 

"  Bronze "  had  made  an  impression  upon  Lieu 
tenant  Benners;  he  seemed  glad  when  she  was  in  the 
parlor,  and  frequently  asked  for  her.  He  was  just  as 
apt,  or  more  apt  to  give  "  Bronze  "  flowers,  when  he 
came,  than  he  was  to  give  them  to  Ola;  they,  too, 
smoked  cigarettes  together  (Ola  could  not  smoke). 
The  Lieutenant  would  have  liked  dearly  well  to  take 
up  a  flirtation  with  "  Bronze,  "  but  he  scarcely  dared 
try  it,  through  fear  he  would  not  get  "  Bronze  "  and 
would  lose  Ola.  He  was,  however,  equal  to  almost 
any  emergency,  so,  one  night  when  he  was  near,  very 
near  Ola,  he  said,  "  Say,  dear,  would  you  object  to 
my  paying  a  little  attention  to  Miss  Hilton?" 

For  a  moment  the  woman  was  absolutely  numb 
with  astonishment.  Hastily  enough  she  left  him,  say 
ing  in  the  iciest  tones :  "  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  " 

He  saw  his  mistake  in  an  instant,  and  tried  hard 
to  make  her  forget  his  words;  but  all  to  no  purpose. 
With  those  words  he  had  dealt  her  a  wound  which 

78 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

would  never  heal.    She  never  forgot  it,  never  forgave 
him. 

He  was  profuse  in  his  explanations  and  expostu 
lations,  but  after  listening  to  him  a  long  time  in 
silence  she  said,  "  You  can  never  get  back  the  posi 
tion  you  once  had  in  my  heart.  From  one  point  of 
view,  I  am  astonished  that  you  should  make  such 
a  request  of  me.  For,  considering  the  time,  place, 
circumstances,  there  should  have  been  nothing  in 
your  heart  but  love  and  tenderness  for  me.  That  you 
could  be  thinking  of  another  woman,  shows  an  utter 
lack  of  principle.  At  that  I  do  not  wonder.  But  to 
speak  of  it,  was  brutally  cruel  and  showed  a  lack  of 
the  finer  instincts  of  a  gentleman.  When  we  first 
met  I  exacted  a  promise  of  you  not  to  mention  my 
name  on  board  the  '  Grant : '  I  do  not  know 
whether  you  have  kept  your  word  or  not.  I  now, 
however,  not  only  release  you  from  your  pledge, 
but  I  request  you  to  talk  me  over  fully  and  freely 
with  the  officers.  If  possible,  bring  Mr.  Cameron 
and  present  him  to  me  (Ola  had  often  heard  the 
Lieutenant  mention  Mr.  Cameron  and  Mr.  Lewes). 
I  will  give  you  unmistakable  evidence  that  I  prefer 
him  to  you.  You  can  then,  without  injury  to  my 
dignity,  which  in  honor  you  are  bound  to  respect, 
leave  me  and  take  Miss  Hilton.  " 

But  this  did  not  suit  the  Lieutenant  at  all.  He 
had  no  notion  of  giving  up  Ola,  least  of  all  to 
Cameron,  whom  he  did  not  like.  He  talked  to  her, 
tried  his  best  to  convince  her  she  had  misunderstood 
him.  But  that  was  the  subject  of  their  first  quarrel, 

79 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

as  the  final  rock  upon  which  they  split;  for  Ola  never 
forgot  it,  never  forgave  him,  and  it  militated  against 
him  whenever  she  had  him  under  the  microscope. 

A  few  evenings  after  this,  the  Lieutenant  called, 
and  brought  flowers  for  both  Ola  and  "  Bronze.  "  Ola 
was  not  dressed  so  "  Bronze "  saw  him  first.  Ola 
did  not  hurry  about  her  toilet,  for  she  was  angry  with 
him  that  he  had  asked  for  "  Bronze.  "  When  she 
finally  entered  the  parlor  and  he  gave  her  the  flowers 
he  had  brought  for  her,  she  just  as  petulantly  threw 
them  on  the  floor  as  she  could  have  done  had  she 
had  origin  on  the  Tar  Flats  of  Hoodlumdom.  In  an 
instant  she  was  heartily  ashamed  of  herself. 

"  Bronze  "  went  into  her  own  room,  threw  her 
self  on  the  bed  and  laughed  to  her  heart's  satisfaction. 
From  that  hour,  between  Ola  and  "  Bronze, "  the 
Lieutenant's  name  was  never  mentioned.  In  speak 
ing  of  the  affair  to  Nell,  Ola  said,  "  I  would  apologize 
to  "  Bronze, "  only  I  do  not  wish  to  re-open  an  un 
pleasant,  and,  it  seems,  a  tabooed  subject.  " 

"  Drop  him  Ola,  he's  no  good.  I  tell  you  if 
Jack  should  treat  me  that  way  I  would  never  speak 
to  him  again  as  long  as  I  live.  It  is  bad  enough  to 
know  a  man  one  loves  could  think  of  another  woman ; 
but  to  play  second  fiddle  to  one's  own  best  friend,  is 
a  little  too  much  humble  pie  to  eat,  even  for  the  sake 
of  a  naval  officer.  " 

"  But  I  do  not  love  Lieutenant  Benners,  Nell, ' 
said  Ola. 

"  Don't  you  ?  Well,  then,  all  I've  got  to  say  is  that 
80 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

you've  a  queer  way  of  acting.  Do  you  think  he  loves 
you?  " 

"  I  know  he  doesn't.  I  understand  myself,  with  re 
ference  to  Lieutenant  Benners,  no  better  than  you 
do.  By  some  strange,  incomprehensible  influence  he 
has  over  me,  I  am  subject  to  his  command  and  I 
love  him  to  madness  when  I  am  with  him.  When  he 
is  away,  I  see  things  clearly  enough.  When  he  is 
with  me,  I  do  not  see  things  as  he  sees  them ;  but 
as  he  would  have  me  see  them.  " 

"  Then  your  safety  lies  in  keeping  him  away  from 
you.  "  said  Nell. 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  know  it,  but  somehow  I  do  not  do 
it,  "  sighed  Ola. 

This  last  attempt  of  Lieutenant  Benners,  con 
vinced  him  he  could  not  "  run  "  two  women  in  the 
same  house,  at  the  same  time,  if  one  of  those  women 
was  Ola  Del,  so  he  wisely  enough  gave  up  the  at 
tempt. 

Shortly  after  that  time  "  Bronze "  went  away 
for  the  Summer,  and  she  never  returned  to  the  flat, 
but  took  a  place  of  her  own.  This  cause  of  discord 
removed,  the  Lieutenant's  influence  on  Ola  grew 
stronger  day  by  day.  Much  of  the  time  she  was  alone 
in  the  flat,  Jack  and  Nell  being  away  in  the  country, 
enjoying  their  half  good-comrade,  half  lover  com 
panionship.  Then  the  Lieutenant  fairly  reveled  in 
love,  and  Ola  gained  as  firm  a  hold  on  his  heart  as 
his  selfishness  would  have  permitted  any  woman  to 
get.  Much  about  her  appealed  to  his  better  self. 

81 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

She  was  always  most  scrupulously  clean,  and  gen 
erally  well  dressed.  She  never  would  show  him  any 
marks  of  affection  in  the  presence  of  others,  which 
rather  annoyed  him. 

Her  frigidity  to  other  men  suited  him  exactly,  but 
she  might  unbend  a  little  for  him.  To  have  had  her 
show  her  love  before  Nell  and  Jack,  would  have 
pleased  him  not  a  little;  but  had  she  revealed  it  be 
fore  Ned  St.  Claire,  the  Lieutenant  would  indeed 
have  clasped  her  to  his  heart  and  exclaimed :  "  Oh, 
you  dear  girl !  "  in  genuine,  heart-felt  pride  and  grati 
tude.  She  insisted,  however,  upon  treating  him  cour 
teously  in  the  presence  of  others ;  that  and  that  only. 
And  she  exacted  the  same  of  him.  Since  he  could 
not  help  himself,  he  submitted ;  but  it  annoyed  him. 
Hence,  when  they  were  alone,  and,  with  boyish 
gayety  he  could  chase  her  around  the  room,  pull  the 
pins  out  of  her  beautiful  black  hair  and  send  it  tumb 
ling  over  her  bare  shoulders,  or  eat  bonbons,  with 
her  very  near  him,  and  not  always  be  afraid  of  a  tap 
at  the  door  or  a  ring  at  the  bell,  he  just  settled  down 
to  a  full  enjoyment  of  this  life,  which  was  more 
pleasure  to  him  than  going  to  the  seashore,  or  roof- 
gardens,  or  anywhere  else ;  and  in  his  happiness  he 
forgot  everything  except  that  he  was  happy. 

He  often  said  to  Ola,  "  You  have  only  to  let 
me  know,  dear,  if  there  is  any  place  you  would  like 
to  go,  and  I  will  take  you." 

She  was  not  the  kind  of  woman  to  suggest  out- 
82 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

ings,  but  she  spoke  carelessly  of  some  out-of-door 
performance.  'Had  he  seen  it?' 

'  Yes,  and  it  was  very  good.  They  would  go 
any  evening  she  liked.  It  would  be  there  all  sum 
mer.'  Then  he  forgot  all  about  it. 

Not  so  Ola.  She  waited  until  the  last  week  and 
then  accepted  an  invitation  from  the  "  Banker "  to 
go  with  him  and  Nell  and  Jack,  writing  the  Lieu 
tenant  not  to  come  over  that  Saturday  evening, 
as  she  was  going  to  see  this  performance  with  some 
friends.  She  thought  he  would  feel  somewhat  guilty 
that  he  had  let  the  entire  Summer  pass  without  mak 
ing  good  his  word  in  this  respect,  and  expected  a 
letter  of  apology  from  him,  but  none  came.  Then 
the  idea  took  possession  of  her  that  he  did  not  wish 
to  go  out  with  her;  that  he  classed  her  among  those 
women  who  are  to  use,  but  not  to  associate  oneself 
with  publicly.  She  constantly  dwelt  on  this  thought, 
and  the  bitter  waters  of  Marah  flooded  her  soul. 

She  passed  all  his  acts  in  review.  "  Had  he 
ever  been  anything  but  unqualifiedly  selfish  with 
her?"  "No." 

She  did  not  care  for  anything  he  could  give  her, 
for  the  Lieutenant  had  always  been  quite  candid 
about  his  lack  of  wealth.  She  wanted  money — wanted 
a  great  deal  of  money — that  she  might  devote  herself 
to  art.  But  she  would  not  have  accepted  it  from  him 
had  he  been  worth  a  million.  She  never  wished  to 
talk  business  or  any  other  worry  or  perplexity  with 
Lieutenant  Benners,  but  that  his  own  heart  had 

83 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

not  prompted  him  to  offer  her  some  token  of  love, 
galled  her.  So  far  as  going  to  places  of  amusement 
was  concerned,  the  "  Banker  "  sent  her  more  invita 
tions  than  enough,  about  one  in  ten  of  which  she  ac 
cepted,  and  almost  every  one  accepted  since  Lieu 
tenant  Benners'  reign,  had  been  due  to  pique  or 
dissatisfaction  of  some  sort  with  the  Lieutenant. 

The  "  Banker, "  poor  man,  said  that  he  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  he  was  with  her.  It  would 
not  have  increased  his  happiness  any  had  he  known 
about  the  Lieutenant,  and  his  evil  conduct  and  bad 
behavior;  so  Ola  did  not  tell  him  whom  he  had  to 
thank,  any  more  than  she  told  him  that,  lost  in  morbid 
reflections  upon  her  handsome  lover,  she  many  times 
knew  no  more  of  what  he  was  saying  to  her,  than 
she  would  have  known  had  he  addressed  her  in 
Sanscrit. 

No,  she  did  not  need  Lieutenant  Benners  as  an 
escort,  '  but  he  should  not  make  a  convenience  of 
her,'  she  said.  Thus  she  mused  and  walked  the  floor 
and  lashed  her  soul  into  a  furious  tempest;  and  to 
lighten  the  load  she  threw  her  handsome  Lieutenant 
overboard,  by  writing  to  him  that  their  intimacy  filled 
her  with  the  most  absolute  loathing  of  herself,  and 
that  she  wished  to  end  it. 

This  rupture  came  when  their  love  was  at  its 
height,  and  when  he  felt  surer  of  her  than  he  ever 
had.  From  out  the  clearest  of  clear  skies  the  storm 
broke.  He  never  suspected  that  one  little  line  from 
him,  apologizing  for  his  carelessness,  would  have 
bound  her  closer  to  him  than  ever.  She  did  not  get 

84 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

that  one  little  line  so  much  wished  for,  but  she  got 
one  from  the  "  Banker  "  inviting  her  to  go  to  Mauch 
Chunk,  and  this  time  she  accepted  his  invitation. 

She  made  "  apoplectic  tomatoes "  with  all  her 
restless  might  until  the  morning  appointed  for  the 
excursion  to  the  Lehigh  Valley. 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

The  "Banker,"  Mauch  Chunk,  The  Captain  of  the 
"  Grant." 

Nell  made  Ola's  coffee  for  her  the  morning  of 
the  Mauch  Chunk  excursion.  The  "  Banker "  ar 
rived  sharp  on  time;  he  was  radiantly  happy  and 
overpoweringly  perfumed.  They  left  the  city  and 
steamed  along,  and  the  "  Banker,  "  poor  man,  thought 
he  had  her  all  to  himself;  for  which  conceit  he  is  to 
be  congratulated.  He  knew  no  more  of  Ola's 
romantic  love  for  the  "  Prince  "  than  he  knew  of  her 
passion  for  Lieutenant  Benners.  Blessed  are  the 
ignorant. 

They  steamed  along  towards  Mauch  Chunk,  ar 
rived  on  time  without  accident  and,  just  like  any 
other  two  mortals,  went  to  dinner. 

Up  the  beautiful  Glen  Onoko  they  went  the  fol 
lowing  day,  returning  just  in  time  to  see  the  Mauch 
Chunk  train  pull  out  and  leave  them ;  so  they  again 
went  over  the  bridge  to  the  Wahnetah  Hotel  to  din 
ner.  When  the  "  Banker  "  was  with  Ola,  he  system 
atically  missed  every  boat  and  train  they  were  sched 
uled  to  take,  except  the  one  upon  which  they  started. 
It  was  a  little  trick  of  his.  He  did  not  explain  why 
he  did  this,  he  had  no  need  to,  she  knew.  But  she 
forgave  him ;  he  was  a  good  man  and  he  loved  her. 

Life  was  all  one  dreary  waste,  one  struggle  after 
86 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Fame,  which,  "  ignis  fatuus  "  like,  dragged  her  soul 
through  the  sloughs;  made  it  one  condemnation  of 
herself;  what  mattered  the  missing  of  a  train  more 
or  less?  It  made  the  "  Banker  "  happy  and  it  did  not 
materially  increase  her  misery.  There  still  remained 
the  dinner  at  the  Wahnetah  Hotel,  and  it  was  sure  to 
be  a  good  one.  But,  alackaday ;  they  lingered  so 
long  over  the  dinner  that  the  next  train  steamed 
out  and  left  them,  and  the  "  Banker  "  was  obliged  to 
walk  over  the  mountain  to  Mauch  Chunk  to  pay  their 
bill  there,  and  join  Ola  at  the  station  at  five  to  take 
the  last  train  for  the  day. 

He  attracted  her  attention  at  the  Mauch  Chunk 
station  by  tapping  on  the  window  near  which  she 
sat,  thus  arousing  her  from  a  reverie.  A  loving,  sor 
rowful,  bitter,  reverie,  in  which  she  saw  the  United 
States  Revenue  Cutter  "  Grant ; "  a  room,  a 
bunk;  and  thereon  listlessly  stretched,  Lieutenant 
Benners.  A  soft  light  is  in  his  beautiful  eyes;  a 
pleased  expression  lingers  on  his  red  lips.  He  is 
thinking  of  a  beautiful  girl  in  New  Orleans  who 
loves  him,  and  who  is  waiting  there — patiently  wait 
ing — for  him  to  wed  her  and  thus  make  her  happy. 

"  Wait  on,  sweet  girl,  until  you  are  weary  of 
waiting!  And  then,  in  numb  despair,  give  the  wreck 
of  your  life  and  the  remnant  of  your  love,  to  some 
good  man  who  will  love  you;  for  Lieutenant  Benners 
was  but  philosophically  enjoying  himself  and  the 
'  Now '  with  you,  when  with  him  you  rested  in  the 
shade,  and  ate  bonbons  from  the  same  box  through 
those  long  summer  days.  There  was  no  depth  of 

87 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

meaning  in  his  heart,  when  those  heavenly  eyes 
fastened  upon  you  in  a  way  that  made  you  so  love 
him.  He  was  grateful  for  your  love  that  Summer ; 
he  is  now,  in  a  sort  of  way,  while  he  is  wading 
through  your  impassioned  letters.  But  don't  rely 
upon  so  frail  a  reed,  dear.  Could  you  look  down  into 
his  heart,  you  would  see  that,  sometime,  in  ten,  fifteen, 
maybe  twenty  years  from  now,  he  intends  to  marry. 
Whom?  Oh,  that  he  hasn't  definitely  settled.  There 
is  plenty  of  time  for  that.  In  ten,  fifteen,  maybe 
twenty  years  from  now,  he  thinks  he  will  begin  to  ap 
preciate  a  home.  But  don't  depend  upon  him,  dear. 
Be  wise  in  your  generation ;  seek  a  good  man  who  will 
love  you.  For  there  your  happiness  lies ;  if  there  be 
such  a  thing  as  happiness  for  women  in  this  world." 

These  are  the  thoughts  that  pass  through  Ola's 
mind.  She  also  thinks  of  those  who  love  her,  chiefest 
among  whom  she  numbers  the  "  Prince.  "  Then  she 
sees  the  Lieutenant  indifferently  seat  himself  to  write 
to  this  Southern  girl.  She  can  read  that  letter,  she 
knows  exactly  the  spirit  in  which  it  will  be  written.  It 
will  be  friendly,  but  through  it  all,  from  date  at  top 
to  initials  at  bottom,  will  be  mingled  the  spirit  of 
haste  and  an  evident  desire  to  have  it  off  his  mind — 
not  that  it  is  exactly  an  unpleasant  task,  but  because 
he  wants  to  be  rid  of  it  in  order  to  be  free  for  his  "  day 
off  "  on  the  morrow. 

From  this  sad  reverie  she  was  aroused  by  the 
"  Banker's  "  tap  on  the  window.  In  one  hand  he  had 
their  satchels,  in  the  other  a  bunch  of  wild  flowers 
he  had  cut  as  he  tramped  over  the  mountain.  Each 

88 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

time  he  stopped  to  cut  those  "  weeds,  "  as  he  called 
them,  his  fond  and  loyal  heart  turned  to  the  woman 
who  was  waiting  at  the  Wahnetah  Hotel  for  the  five 
o'clock  train.  And  that  woman  at  the  Wahnetah 
Hotel  was  thinking  of  the  Cutter  "  Grant,"  and  of 
Lieutenant  Benners,  with  his  glad  eyes  and  his  soft, 
rich  voice  and  his  Southern  accent.  And  he,  the 
Lieutenant,  was  thinking  of  the  girl  in  New  Orleans. 

Thus  do  things  go  in  this  world.  Thus,  from  day 
to  day  do  we  turn  carelessly  aside  from  an  affection 
which  is  beyond  price,  and  with  eyes  fastened  upon  * 
worthless  imitation,  go  on  sorrowing.  Thus  it  is 
and  ever  was  and  ever  will  be.  Why  not  be  philo 
sophical  enough  to  sa)^,  "  So  be  it?  " 

The  "  Banker  "  disposed  of  the  "  weeds  "  and  the 
satchels  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  interfere  with  the 
pleasure  he  took  in  looking  at  this  woman  he  loved 
so  truly.  It  is  wonderful  what  an  amount  of  happi 
ness  he  could  extract  from  merely  looking  at  her; 
and  it  was  well  he  could  be  happy  in  this  way,  for  that 
cold,  conservative,  ceremonious  woman,  who,  in  spite 
of  her  repellent  ways  had  won  and  held  his  love, 
limited  the  demonstration  of  his  adoration  to  looks. 
He  told  her  in  letters  he  adored  her;  he  occasionally 
touched  lightly  upon  the  forbidden  topic  in  conversa 
tion.  Once  when  he  ventured  a  trifle  too  far,  she  told 
him  not  to  make  himself  "  obnoxious.  "  That  word 
"  obnoxious  "  was  exceedingly  distasteful  to  him,  and 
he  resolved  not  to  merit  it  again.  So,  as  a  rule,  he  was 
"  pretty  decent,  "  as  Nell  would  have  expressed  it. 

Ah,  well!  he  looked  at  her,  he  talked  to  her,  he 
89 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

told  her  that  he  had  really  enjoyed  the  walk  over  the 
mountain;  only  he  did  not  like  to  be  separated  from 
her  so  long.  He  told  her  how  happy  he  had  been  for 
those  two  days ;  he  told  her  that,  considering  the  en 
joyment  he  had  had,  "  it  was  cheap.  "  The  "  Banker  " 
was  a  good  financier.  If  she  did  not  watch,  and 
silence  him,  she  invariably  knew  the  cost  of  their  little 
outings,  dinners,  theatres  or  concerts.  To  make  a 
good  bargain  was  born  in  him,  and  he  never  could 
understand  that  she  took  no  possible  interest  in  the 
hackman's  fee.  She  once  carelessly  said,  when  she 
found  a  bad  nut  in  the  nuga  he  brought  her,  that  the 
candy  was  not  fresh. 

"  Well,  if  it  isn't,  I'll  just  speak  to  them  about  it. 
Why  bless  your  dear  heart,  it  ought  to  be  good,  it 
cost  eighty  cents  a  pound.  " 

The  train  rattled  on  towards  New  York,  and  he 
never  tired  of  looking  his  love  at  her.  At  last  this 
began  to  make  her  fidget.  She  manufactured  all  sorts 
of  excuses  to  get  him  into  conversation  with  the  con 
ductor,  upon  the  occasion  of  the  latter's  trips  through 
the  cars;  but  the  conductor  had  other  things  to  at 
tend  to.  He  answered  politely,  but  he  passed  on  about 
his  business.  Ola  noticed  that  he  had  a  Southern 
accent,  and  resembled  Lieutenant  Benners,  only  he 
was  not  so  handsome,  not  so  patrician-looking.  The 
"  Banker  "  looked  and  looked  at  her,  and  she  fidgeted 
more  and  more.  How  could  she  get  his  eyes  off  her 
if  only  for  a  moment?  She  looked  intently  around 
the  car  for  something  to  distract  his  attention.  Final 
ly  her  face  lighted  up. 

90 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  Try  to  see  how  many  words  you  can  make  from 
the  sign  over  the  door,  '  Lehigh  Valley  R.  R.' "  He 
took  out  his  note-book  and  wrote  her  request 
therein,  saying:  "I'll  struggle  with  that  some 
evening  when  I'm  thinking  of  you  and  the  happiness 
of  these  two  days,  now  so  nearly  at  an  end.  " 

That  scheme  had  been  a  failure.  What  else 
could  she  offer?  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  car  there 
was  a  little  instrument  which  resembled,  to  some  ex 
tent,  a  common,  round  clock. 

"  Have  you  noticed  that  machine  on  the  other 
side  of  the  car?  It  looks  like  a-dollar-and-forty-nine- 
cent  alarm  clock.  " 

"  No,  "  said  the  "  Banker,  "  but  he  made  no  attempt 
to  follow  her  eyes  to  the  instrument  indicated. 

"I  thought  you  told  me  you  were  observant?" 
said  she.  Although  she  never  took  her  eyes  off  the 
opposite  wall,  she  knew  that  a  gentleman  who  sat  in 
the  seat  behind  them,  had  raised  his  from  a  book 
which,  for  some  time,  he  had  been  pretending  to  read, 
in  order  to  glance  at  the  spot  on  the  wall  which  so 
much  interested  her.  She  had  known  for  some  time 
this  gentleman's  reading  was  only  seeming.  She 
imagined  he  instinctively  knew  she  was  fidgeting,  and 
that,  though  she  could  not  understand  why,  he  was 
actually  enjoying  her  agony.  The  man  behind  them 
looked  down  at  his  book,  and  she  could  imagine  she 
heard  a  suppressed  chuckling  laugh,  and  a  sotto  voce, 
"  It's  fine  sport  to  see  a  woman  writhe.  "  But  this 
of  course  was  due  to  her  overwrought  nerves. 

"So  I  am."  said  the  "Banker,"  placidly.     But 
91 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

he  did  not  turn  his  head  nor  take  his  eyes  off  her. 

"  You  cannot  be,  for  that  machine  has  been  there 
ever  since  we  started,  and  you  have  not  seen  it.  " 

"  That  is  true.  I  am  now  more  agreeably  em 
ployed  in  looking  at  you.  " 

This  time  she  was  sure  she  heard  the  chuckle 
from  the  seat  behind  them.  But  she  did  not;  again 
it  was  nerves. 

"  Now  that  I  have  called  your  attention  to  it 
do  you  mind  turning  around  to  look?  then  you  can 
tell  me  what  you  think  it  is,  "  said  Ola,  determined 
to  gain  an  instant's  respite  from  his  eyes,  and  at  the 
same  time  silence  the  chuckle  behind  her. 

The  "  Banker "  turned,  put  on  his  glasses  and 
said,  "  It's  a  thermometer.  "  Then  took  his  glasses 
off,  put  them  in  his  pocket,  and  began  devouring  her ; 
body,  soul  and  patience,  fidgeting  and  all,  with  his 
love-looks. 

The  logic  of  men  and  angels  could  not  have 
convinced  her  that  the  man  in  the  back  seat  was  not 
gradually  stepping  into  Heaven  at  her  expense.  The 
sides  of  the  car  echoed  with  his  diabolical  laughter. 
But  this  was  all  a  mistake.  The  man  in  the  seat  be- 
hand  them  was  the  personification  of  Silence  and 
Self-important  Dignity. 

Ola  had  given  herself  too  large  a  dose  of  that 
Yankee  twang;  too  many  sickening  draughts  of  the 
"  Banker's  "  perfumed  handkerchief  had  drawn  up  in 
battle  array  that  idiosyncrasy  of  her  nature  which 
invariably  went  into  rebellion  at  perfumes  of  any  kind. 
She  should  jump  out  of  the  car  window,  she  knew  she 

92 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

should,  if  this  nervousness  were  to  continue.  She  asked 
the  "Banker"  to  pardon  her  passing  in  front  of  him, 
arose,  and  walked  over  to  take  a  nearer  view  of  the 
instrument.  Then  he  turned,  ever  following  her 
with  that  love-look  which  was  so  torturing  her. 

"  No,  it's  not  a  thermometer,"  said  Ola. 

"Oh,  it  must  be.  What  else  could  it  be?"  said 
the  "  Banker.  " 

"  A  dynamite  bomb,  for  aught  I  know, "  and  in 
her  soul  she  almost  wished  it  were,  "  but  it  is  not  a 
thermometer.  The  more  I  look  at  it,  the  more  I  think 
it  is  a  bomb.  It  begins  to  register  at  40,  the  explosion 
will  come  at  190;  we  are  now  at  80;  so  you  can  easily 
calculate  how  much  longer  you  have  to  live.  " 

These  remarks  of  Ola,  had  drawn  the  "  Banker  " 
into  a  more  conspicuous  position  than  he  relished.  It 
had  also  aroused  a  feeling  of  sympathy  in  the  man 
who  sat  in  the  seat  behind  them,  pretending,  in  such 
a  dignified  way,  to  be  reading  a  book.  Whenever 
there  is  a  dispute  between  a  man  and  a  woman,  and 
there  is  another  man  near  at  hand  who  pretends  to 
read  a  book,  when  in  point  of  fact  he  is  enjoying 
the  woman's  vexation,  and  that  other  man  takes  any 
part  in  the  contest,  be  sure  he  will  lend  his  influences 
towards  annihilating  the  woman.  This  you  will  find 
to  be  the  case  every  time,  and  this  occasion  was  no 
exception  to  the  rule.  The  man  who  had  pretended  to 
read  his  book  looked  up  at  Ola,  and  with  the  keenest 
satisfaction  on  his  face,  prepared  to  destroy  that 
little  theory  of  the  dynamite  bomb,  and  at  one  an-j 

93 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

the  same  time  relieve  the  "  Banker  "  of  his  fear  of 
death  and  his  unpleasantly  conspicous  position. 

"  That  is   a  barometer,   madam. " 

Ola  looked  at  the  instrument,  then  at  the  person 
who  had  addressed  her.  The  man  was  evidently 
above  medium  height  and  rather  thin;  looked  as  if 
he  were  exceedingly  well  satisfied  with  himself  and 
as  ill-content  with  the  rest  of  mankind — especially 
when  the  rest  of  mankind  was  of  the  feminine  gender. 

"Has  he  one  wife  too  many?"  she  questioned. 
"Or  is  his  digestion  bad?"  She  did  not  feel  a  bit 
grateful  to  him  for  mixing  in  her  private  quarrel. 
Woman-like,  if  she  could  shift  the  torture  from  the 
"  Banker  "  to  him,  she  would  do  it.  So,  looking  at 
the  instrument,  she  said:  "Indeed?  It  does  not  in 
the  least  resemble  any  barometer  I  ever  saw.  I  had 
one  once,  and  it  was  the  most  miserable  little  per- 
verter  of  the  truth  that  ever  was — that  did  not  wear 
trousers.  " 

This  last  part  of  the  clause  she  spoke  softly,  and 
to  the  "  Banker's  "  private  ear.  Not  so  softly,  how 
ever,  but  that  the  man  in  the  seat  behind  heard  what 
she  said.  In  fact,  she  intended  he  should  hear.  She 
spoke  softly,  and  in  the  "  Banker's  "  private  ear,  only 
that  the  man  in  the  seat  behind  them,  should  by  no 
means  have  occasion  to  deem  her  remark  applicable 
to  him.  Then,  looking  again  at  the  barometer,  she 
shook  her  head. 

"  No,  I  never  saw  one  like  that.  Are  you  sure? '' 
This  to  the  man  in  the  seat  behind  them. 

The  way  that  man  did  arm  and  equip  his  insulted 
94 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

importance,  was  a  warning  to  all  persons  ignorant  on 
the  subject  of  barometers. 

"  Hm,  "  he  said,  and  closed  his  book  and  straight 
ened  up.  "  Hm,  madam,  I  am  an  officer  in  the 
United  States  Navy.  We  have  considerable  use  for 
barometers  and  without  boasting,  I  may  say  that 
I  am  acquainted  with  all  the  various  patents.  "  Then 
he  went  on  to  explain  the  construction  of  the  instru 
ment  under  discussion. 

Ola  listened  politely,  and  at  the  close  of  his  re 
marks  she  thanked  him  for  his  kindness,  apologized 
for  her  seeming  doubt  of  his  knowledge,  but  assured 
him  that  it  was  only  seeming — for  of  course,  even  to 
one  of  her  limited  discernment,  the  profundity  of  his 
reading,  the  keenness  of  his  intellect,  must  at  once  be 
perceived. 

These  remarks  had  two  effects,  both  of  which 
pleased  her.  The  outraged  dignity  of  the  officer  of 
the  United  States  Navy  was  appeased,  and  the 
"  Banker  "  was  jealous.  The  officer  of  the  Navy  even 
deigned  to  give  her  a  patronizing  smile;  but  the 
"  Banker, "  poor  man,  looked  sullenly  ahead  and  did 
not  smile  at  all.  However,  Ola  did  not  care  which 
way  he  looked,  or  whether  he  smiled  at  all  or  not, 
if  he  did  not  look  at  her.  The  fact  is,  the  moment 
that  piece  of  pomposity  said :  "  Madam,  I  am  an 
officer  in  the  United  States  Navy, "  the  diplomatic 
little  jade  said  to  herself:  "So  you  are,  are  you? 
Well,  then,  I'll  interview  you.  " 

But  it  would  never  do  to  let  him  know  that  he 
was  being  interviewed.  Back,  back,  back  from  among 

95 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

the  jingles  of  her  pinafore  days  there  came  to  her, 
as  if  whispered  by  a  ministering  angel,  these  words: 

"  You've  heard  it  said  in  all  the  schools, 
That  flattery  is  a  dish  for  fools: 
But  now  and  then  your  men  of  wit, 
Will  condescend  to  take  a  bit.  " 

She  resolved  to  try  the  prescription  on  this  officer 
of  the  United  States  Navy.  It  worked  to  a  charm. 
He  talked  of  barometers  in  general,  and  this  one  in 
particular;  he  talked  of  marine  stories,  and  scored  a 
woman  who  had  recently  shown  her  ignorance  by 
writing  a  most  erroneous  and  impossible  one.  He  had 
written  her  a  letter,  he  said,  in  which  he  told  her 
in  forcible,  if  not  polite  language,  that  what  she  knew 
of  the  sea  was  evidently  limited  to  her  view  of  the 
same  from  the  piers  of  watering  places ;  had  given 
her  some  wholesome  advice ;  and  spoken  of  the  im 
portance  of  the  United  States  Navy  and  of  himself  in 
particular. 

Ola  was  delighted ;  the  "  Banker  "  looked  straight 
ahead  and  sulked.  Then  she  launched  into  most  ful 
some  praise  of  the  Navy.  If  she  were  a  man  she 
would  be  a  naval  officer — but,  alas,  what  was  the  Navy 
now  ? 

"  Oh,  if  one  could  only  have  been  in  the  navy 
during  the  war!  that  would  have  rendered  life  worth 
living.  The  little  ones  would  gather  around  one  to 
catch  every  word  about  it,  and  fairly  burst  their  little 
hearts  in  anticipation  of  another  war  when  they 
should  have  become  men.  " 

She  had  conquered  the  situation  with  this  officer 
96 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

in  the  United  States  Navy.  He  thought  her  '  the 
most  charming  little  woman  that  was  ever  hampered 
by  a  lubberly  blunderbuss  of  an  escort. '  She  knew 
he  liked  her.  A  woman  can  never  tell  when  a  man 
loves  her,  but  she  is  not  mistaken  as  to  what  sort 
of  an  impression  she  has  made. 

"  Is  your  vessel  in  New  York  harbor  now? 
You  will  pardon  me,  I  know,  because  I  am  a  woman ; 
but  I  have  a  great  desire  to  know  to  whom  I  am  so 
much  indebted.  " 

Here  the  officer  in  the  United  States  Navy  took 
a  neat  little  seal-leather  case  from  his  pocket,  and 
presented  her  a  card — upon  whidi  she  read : 

Captain  Leon  W.  Calhoun 
U.  S.  Navy. 

During  all  this  conversation  with  Captain 
Calhoun,  Ola  had  been  standing  in  front  of  him,  and 
at  the  side  of  her  own  seat,  with  her  back  to  the  sullen 
"  Banker.  "  Now  she  placed  her  small  hand  lightly 
on  the  "  Banker's  "  shoulder,  and  as  he  looked  up 
at  her,  she  smiled  at  him — she  thought  his  patience 
merited  that  much — and  exclaimed,  "  My,  how  tired 
I  am !  "  The  "  Banker  "  prepared  to  move  along  and 
let  her  sit  down,  but  she  restrained  him  and  added, 
"  and  how  thirsty !  Do  you  think  it  would  poison  me 
to  drink  out  of  the  car  glass?" 

"  I  guess  not,  "  said  the  "  Banker,  "  and  he  started 
to  bring  her  a  glass  of  water. 

Then  Ola  turned  to  the  Captain  and  inquired, 
"  Are  you  not  the  Captain  of  the  '  Grant?'  " 

97 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"  I  am,  madam,"  and  the  Captain  of  the  "  Grant ' 
looked  a  most  peremptory  order  for  her  to  tell  how 
she  knew  this. 

She  laughed  a  little  at  his  confusion,  and  said, 
"  Oh,  don't  be  astonished.  It's  no  mystery.  You 
simply  pay  the  penalty  of  greatness.  I  saw  your 
name,  and  a  brief  resume  of  your  gallant  service 
during  the  war,  in  the  papers."  She  thought  it  just 
as  well  not  to  add  that  she  had  had  a  long  talk  with 
Lieutenant  Benners  about  this  same  article.  She 
wanted  to  say  something  more,  but  she  saw  the 
"  Banker "  coming  toward  them  with  the  glass-  of 
water,  and  she  must  contrive  to  find  some  fault  with 
it  and  so  get  the  poor,  patient  fellow  off  again. 

She  peered  into  the  glass  but  did  not  drink. 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  the  "Banker,"  "I 
thought  you  said  you  were  thirsty?" 

"  So  I  am,  but  there  is  some  sort  of  insect, 
in  the  bottom  of  the  glass. " 

The  "  Banker  "  took  out  his  glasses  and  looked. 
He  could  not  see  anything;  but  he  was  vain  of  his 
youthful  appearance  (that  is,  he  appeared  youthful  to 
himself,  if  to  nobody  else),  so  he  would  not  acknow 
ledge  that  he  could  not  see  the  insect. 

"  Never  mind ;  don't  bother,  I  can  do  without, " 
said  Ola. 

She  said  "I  can  do  without/'  as  if  she  did  not 
wish  to  trouble  him,  but  she  looked  at  him  with  those 
gray-black  eyes  and  smiled  upon  him,  and  he  would 
have  asked  no  greater  happiness  in  life  than  to  bring 
water  to  her,  and  take  it  back  again  and  empty  it 

98 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

many  times,  because  she  said  it  had  insects  in  it, 
whether  he  could  see  them  or  not. 

As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  hearing,  she  turned  to 
the  Captain  and  continued,  "  Is  not  Lieutenant  Ben- 
ners  one  of  your  subordinate  officers?" 

The  Captain  bowed  his  head  in  token  of  assent, 
and  looked  as  if  he  would  like  to  say,  "  Yes,  very 
subordinate.  "  But  that  would  never  do.  That  would 
be  undignified.  Then  Ola  said  to  herself,  "  Uphhugh : 
so  you  don't  like  Lieutenant  Benners;"  but  she  'had 
only  an  instant,  the  "  Banker  "  would  soon  be  back, 
and  she  must  drink  the  next  glass  of  water  if  she  had 
to  chew  the  insects.  From  her  own  pocket-book 
she  took  her  card  and  gave  it  to  the  Captain.  He 
read  aloud: 

Mrs.  Ola  Del 
Artist. 

Then  the  address. 

He  asked  her  a  few  questions  relative  to  the 
branch  of  art  in  which  she  worked,  and  she  laughingly 
responded :  "  If  your  sweetheart  should  wish  to  give 
you  a  mouchoir-case,  I  could  paint  the  much  honored 
forget-me-nots  on  it  ;  or  I  could  decorate  with  hearts 
ease  a  sash,  that  she  might  throw  over  your  photo 
graph  after  you  had  deserted  her,  but  of  anything 
which  in  the  true  signification  of  the  word  may  be 
called  '  art/  I  am  incapable."  Involuntarily  she  sighed. 

The  "  Banker "  had  returned  with  the  water, 
which  she  drank  without  ever  glancing  at  it. 

Then  the  Captain  of  the  "  Grant  "  gave  his  at- 
99 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

tention  to  his  book ;  she  sat  and  looked  out  of  the  car 
window  into  the  night,  and  the  "  Banker "  looked 
at  her  without  for  one  instant  removing  his  glance 
until  they  had  reached  Jersey  City,  where  the  Captain 
of  the  "  Grant "  touched  his  hat  in  parting  salutation, 
and  passed  out  of  her  sight,  but  not  out  of  her  mind. 

She  was  tired,  but  she  knew  that  nothing  could 
save  her  from  that  supper  at  the  old  St.  Denis,  on 
Eleventh  Street  and  Broadway. 

When  they  were  seated  at  the  table,  the 
"  Banker  "  began,  "  You  are  silent.  Of  what  are  you 
thinking?" 


too 


CHAPTER    IX. 

"  Now  if  that  Centurion  had  been  a  Captain  in  the 
navy — " 

"  Of  the  centurion  who  brought  Jesus  to  heal 
his  servant, "  said  Ola. 

The  "  Banker  "  laughed.  He  was  well  read  in 
Biblical  matters. 

"What  does  that  thought  point  forward  to?" 
he  said,  as  he  passed  her  the  bill  of  fare. 

"  I  do  not  know.  But  there  is  something  back 
of  it,  which  pointed  forward  to  it, "  said  Ola. 

"  Bring  me  some  poached  eggs  on  toast,  and  a 
cup  of  tea,  "  said  Ola,  to  the  waiter.  "  What  will 
you  have?"  she  said  to  the  "Banker." 

"  The  same,  "  he  replied,  looking  at  the  waiter. 
He  always  took  the  same  as  Ola  ordered,  no  matter 
how  much  or  how  little  he  liked  it. 

As  she  seemed  inclined  to  lapse  again  into 
thoughtful  silence,  the  "  Banker "  pursued  the  sub 
ject.  "  What  about  the  centurion  who  brought 
Jesus  to  heal  his  servant?" 

"  Nothing  much  about  him,  but  my  respect  for 
that  centurion  has  gone  up  several  points  to-night,  " 
said  Ola  languidly. 

"Won't  you  have  a  glass  of  wine?  you  look  very 
tired,  "  said  the  Banker. 

It  always  made  Ola  furious  to  have  him  pet  or 
101 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

pity  her;  so  she  braced  up,  consoling  herself  that  the 
ordeal  was  almost  over. 

"  No,  thank  you.  You  see  that  big  gun  of  the 
U.  S.  Navy  was  pretty  heavy  to  handle.  Exhaustion 
is  but  the  natural  effect.  " 

The  "  Banker  "  looked  a  little  dark  and  sullen  at 
this,  he  would  prefer  to  forget  this  naval  officer,  who 
had  monopolized  so  much  of  Ola's  attention.  The 
Lord  knew  he  had  always  hard  enough  work  to 
persuade  her  to  accompany  him  any  where.  He  might 
be  permitted  to  keep  her  attention,  cold  and  formal 
though  she  was,  when  he  was  with  her.  Oh,  no!  he 
wasn't  a  bit  disposed  to  be  good  natured  toward  this 
naval  chap.  But  she  smiled,  for  she  knew  that  he 
would  be  restored  to  happiness  before  the  supper  was 
over. 

"  Yes,  my  respect  for  that  centurion  has  mounted 
way  up  to-night.  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  before 
thought  what  a  demoralizing  effect  authority  has 
upon  the  animal  man.  You  are  such  a  good  hand  to 
repeat  Scripture,  can  you  call  to  mind  the  exact  words 
in  this  story  of  the  centurion?"  said  Ola. 

"  Perhaps  not  exactly  the  Bible  text,  but  in  sub 
stance  it  is  this :  '  And  when  Jesus  was  entered  into 
Capernaum,  there  came  unto  him  a  centurion,  be 
seeching  him  and  saying,  "  Lord,  my  servant  lieth  at 
home,  sick  of  the  palsy,  grievously  tormented."  And 
Jesus  saith  unto  him,  "  I  will  come  and  heal  him. '' 
The  centurion  answered  and  said,  "  Lord,  I  am  not 
worthy  that  thou  shouldst  come  under  my  roof;  but, 
speak  the  word  only,  and  my  servant  shall  be  healed. 

102 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

For  I  am  a  man  in  authority,  having  soldiers 
under  me;  and  I  say  to  this  man,  go,  and  he  goeth; 
and  to  another,  come,  and  he  cometh ;  and  to  my  ser 
vant,  do  this,  and  he  doeth  it."  When  Jesus  heard 
it  he  marvelled,  and  said  to  them  that  followed, 
"Verily  I  say  unto  you  I  have  not  found  so  great  faith, 
no,  not  in  Israel." — And  Jesus  said  unto  the  centurion 
"  Go  thy  way,  and  as  thou  hast  believed,  so  shall  it 
be  done  unto  thee."  And  his  servant  was  healed  from 
that  selfsame  hour.' " 

"  Thank  you.  "  said  Ola.  "  You  will  notice  that 
Jesus  marvelled  at  the  man's  faith.  Not  so  I " 

As  the  "  Banker  "  looked  inquiringly  at  her  she 
added.  "  I  marvel  at  the  man's  humility.  He  said, 
'  Lord,  I  am  not  worthy  that  thou  shouldst  come 
under  my  roof;  but  speak  the  word  and  my  servant 
shall  be  healed.  For  I  am  a  man  under  authority, 
having  soldiers  under  me,  and  I  say  to  this  man,  go, 
and  he  goeth,  and  to  another,  come,  and  he  cometh, 
and. to  my  servant,  do  this,  and  he  doeth  it.'  What  a 
great  pity  it  is  that  the  stuff  of  which  that  centurion 
was  made  was  exhausted  when  he  was  born.  " 

"  How  do  you  know  it  was?  "  said  the  "  Banker.  " 
He  said  this  because  he  was  contentious,  not  that  he 
had  caught  the  drift  of  Ola's  remarks,  or  knew  in 
the  least  to  what  they  would  lead. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  of  it.  Historians  of  all  ages  have 
only  been  too  anxious  to  chronicle  the  characteristics 
of  the  great.  I  make  no  doubt,  a  rival  scribbler  would 
have  gone  more  than  a  Sabbath  day's  journey  for 
the  sake  of  finding  a  captain  of  a  hundred  soldiers 

103 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

who  deemed  himself  unworthy  of  entertaining  a 
Galilean  peasant.  Yes,  he  was  the  only  one  who  ever 
lived.  Let  us  not  try  to  rob  him  of  his  glorious 
dues.  Now  if  that  centurion  had  been  a  captain  in 
the  navy,  with  a  handful  of  sub-officials,  and  a  double 
handful  of  greasy  tars  under  him,  though  he  knew  he 
was  speaking  to  the  Saviour  of  men,  he  would  have 
been  so  puffed  up  with  his  own  conceit  and  import 
ance,  that  he  would  have  said :  '  Jesus,  they  tell 
wonderful  stories  hereabouts  of  you;  I  dare  say  you 
are  a  much  over-rated  man,  but  I  have  a  valuable 
servant  and  it  would  be  troublesome  to  replace  the  fel 
low.  He  is  sick  with  the  palsy;  if  you  think  you  can 
cure  him,  I  am  willing  you  should  try.  Any  reasonable 
sum  that  you  ask,  will  be  paid  you.  Of  course  you 
recognize  that  my  official  position  renders  it  neces 
sary  for  me  to  be  careful  with  whom  I  associate.'  " 

The  "  Banker "  laughed  most  heartily.  His 
laugh  was  loud  and  discordant,  and  always  jarred 
on  Ola's  ears.  But  he  was  greatly  amused  and  he 
laughed  again.  At  this  moment  the  waiter  placed  the 
supper  on  the  table,  and  the  "  Banker  "  proceeded  to 
serve  Ola.  He  was  so  shaken  with  laughter  that  he 
served  clumsily,  even  more  clumsily  than  usual.  In 
taking  up  the  piece  of  toast  he  broke  the  egg  and  let 
the  yolk  run  out.  But  he  was  too  delighted  at  Ola's 
slap  at  the  navy  to  permit  such  a  trifle  to  annoy  him. 
So  he  put  the  spoon  under  another  piece  of  toast, 
paying  no  heed  to  the  bias  slash  under  the  bread, 
and  the  second  egg  met  the  same  fate  as  the  first. 

Not  at  all  abashed  by  his  awkwardness,  he  re- 
104 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

marked  jocosely,  "  The  cook  paid  no  possible  atten 
tion  to  the  feelings  of  the  eggs  when  he  cut  this  toast, 
did  he?" 

"  It  is  a  kind  of  heart-broken  looking  mess, " 
said  she. 

Heart-broken  looking  messes  did  not  affect  the 
"  Banker's  "  appetite.  He  was  one  of  those  fortunates 
who  "  feed.  "  "  Why  are  you  so  down  on  the  navy? 
anyway,  "  said  he. 

"  I  am  not  down  on  the  navy,  as  you  are  pleased 
to  term  it.  I  am  simply  observant  of  the  plebeian 
yeast  which  has  leavened  those  in  authority.  And 
it  will  manifest  itself,  whether  it's  a  servant  girl  come 
to  reign  over  her  former  associates,  or  a  lord  high 
admiral.  The  gruff  manners  and  the  cruelty  of  sea 
captains,  the  brutality  of  policemen,  the  petty  tyranny 
of  judges,  the  inhumanity  of  absolute  monarchs,  are 
matters  of  history.  Make  a  man  ruler  over  his  fel 
low-man,  and  if  his  acts  show  that  he  believes  in  the 
brotherhood  of  man  and  the  fatherhood  of  God,  you 
may  take  my  word  for  it  there  is  good  stuff  in  him." 

"  I  thought  you  didn't  believe  in  the  brotherhood 
of  man  and  the  fatherhood  of  God. "  said  the 
"  Banker,  "  ever  on  the  alert  to  contend. 

"  Merciful  saints  and  all  departed  martyrs !  "  ex 
claimed  Ola,  petulantly,  looking  up  at  the  ceiling  of  the 
St.  Denis  dining-room.  "  Will  you  never  learn  these 
two  simple  facts?  In  the  first  place,  what  I  think, 
never  did  and  never  can  make  the  truth  untrue.  In 
the  second  place,  when  I  wish  to  make  myself  under 
stood  by  you,  or  any  other  inhabitant  of  earth  who 

105 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

speaks,  or  pretends  to  speak  the  English  language, 
I  must  serve  myself  with  forms  of  expression  which 
are  used,  and  whose  meanings,  whether  true  or  un 
true,  are  definitely  comprehended.  You  understood 
me  thoroughly  when  I  used  the  platitude,  '  the 
brotherhood  of  man  and  the  fatherhood  of  God. '  I 
was  not  intending  to  make  a  confession  of  faith,  or  to 
establish  the  truth,  or  prove  the  untruth  of  the 
theories  of  the  immortal  Rousseau,  but  simply  to 
state,  in  a  way  in  which  I  thought  you  would  com 
prehend,  how  little,  oh,  how  very  little,  fine  clay  finds 
its  way  into  humanity.  Be  honest  to  the  full ;  be 
generous  a  little.  Pay  your  bill,  tip  the  waiter  and 
let  us  go;  for  I  am  tired  nigh  unto  death  and  I  have 
a  wagon  load  of  '  apoplectic  tomatoes  '  to  make  to 
morrow.  "  And  Ola  pushed  her  plate  back,  having 
scarcely  tasted  her  food. 

The  "  Banker  "  looked  at  her.  He  would  have 
liked  to  protest  against  this  waste  of  money  for  the 
purchase  of  food  which  was  not  tasted,  but  he  knew 
Ola's  nervousness  had  reached  a  pitch  when  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  contend  with  her,  so  he 

quietly  obeyed,  and  they  left  the  hotel. 
***** 

The  Captain  of  the  "  Grant "  paced  the  deck  of 
his  Revenue  Marine  that  night  and  interrogated  his 
soul.  Had  he  now  an  opportunity  to  even  up  that 
damned  Newport  business  with  Benners?  If  so,  how 
and  when  and  where?  But  that  soul  of  his  was  a 
disciplined  soul,  it  was  imperturbable ;  its  depth  was 
not  so  easily  sounded.  It  could  not  well  be  other- 

106 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

wise,  since  it  had  belonged  to  him  for  nearly  sixty 
years,  and  the  Captain  was  a  stickler  for  discipline; 
but  he  paced  the  deck  of  his  Revenue  Marine,  and 
interrogated  his  soul. 

If  the  shrewdest  lawyer  in  the  City  of  New  York 
had  measured  wits  on  the  witness  stand  with  that 
soul  of  the  Captain  of  the  "  Grant,  "  the  lawyer  would 
have  been  obliged  to  retire  from  the  contest  covered 
with  ignominy.  For  he  could  not  have  compromised 
that  soul,  nor  lost  it  in  any  labyrinth  of  questions. 
Moreover  the  obdurate  soul  proved  too  much  and  too 
many  for  its  high  and  mighty  owner,  if  he  was  the 
Captain  of  the  Revenue  Marine  Steamship  "  Grant,  " 
and  if  he  was  covered  with  laurels  for  the  mighty 
deeds  done  in  the  War  between  the  States.  He  paced 
the  deck  and  interrogated  his  soul  as  to  how  he 
might  square  that  old  Newport  account  with  Lieu 
tenant  Benners;  and  his  soul  politely,  but  positively, 
declined  to  predicate  any  statement  about  such  an  un 
reliable  piece  of  masculinity  as  Lieutenant  Benners. 

The  Captain  of  the  "  Grant "  was  a  master  hand 
at  sticking  to  a  thing.  From  what  he  had  once  re 
solved  upon  doing,  all  the  mighty  hosts  of  Heaven 
couldn't  turn  him  aside;  he  did  it,  if  it  took  an  arm. 
He  occasionally  went  off  and  damned  himself;  it  is 
barely  possible  that  he  had  wept,  when  he  was  sure 
he  was  alone.  But  yield?  Never.  So  now  he  walked 
the  deck  and  questioned  his  soul.  There  may  be  folk, 
and  wise  folk,  too,  who  will  doubt  if  the  Captain  of  a 
Revenue  Marine  would  have  agitated  himself  about 
that  old  Newport  affair.  They  will  affirm  that  the 

107 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

Captain  was  a  great  man,  that  he  had  proved  his 
valor,  and  that  to  say  he  was  soured  because  of  the 
infidelity  of  a  woman  would  be  nonsense.  Leave 
such  conduct  as  that  to  poets,  dreamers. 

Yes,  the  Captain  was  a  great  man.  Admit  it! 
Always  admit  a  fact,  no  matter  how  much  it  goes 
against  the  grain.  The  Captain  was  a  great  man. 
Nevertheless,  that  Newport  affair  rankled  within 
him.  Greatness  is  really  a  thing  of  value;  like  your 
true  fissure  vein,  it  bears  gold  and  precious  metals, 
but  it  is  walled  in  on  either  side  by  base  rock;  there 
are  times  when  it  tapers  down  very  thin,  and  the  pay 
streak  threatens  to  give  out  entirely.  Occasionally 
the  pay  streak  in  a  true  fissure  vein  is  cut  off  by  an 
immense  boulder,  which,  in  Rocky  Mountain  mining- 
lore,  is  called  a  "  horse. "  That,  in  man,  which  is 
called,  and  which  is,  greatness,  is  often  narrowed 
down,  sometimes  abruptly  and  forever  terminated,  by 
— woman.  More  often  than  otherwise,  she  is  brain- 
less,  soulless,  conscienceless — a  little  female  David ; 
but  she  brings  down  the  mightiest  warrior  in  all  the 
Philistines.  Of  this  be  absolutely  positive. 

If  you  doubt,  search  the  records  of  history.  Adam 
walked  and  talked  with  God,  received  from  him  in 
structions  in  agriculture,  without  greater  embarass- 
ment  than  the  son  of  an  Ohio  farmer  would  feel  in 
talking  with  his  father.  What  separated  him  from 
his  communion  with  God?  Genesis  III:  12.  Com 
miserate  then,  but  do  not  blame  the  Captain  of  the 
"  Grant,  "  nor  detract  from  him  one  jot  or  one  tittle 
of  his  justly  earned  greatness.  But  be  truthful,  and 

108 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

admit  that  he  did  pace  the  deck  and  long  to  get 
square  with  Lieutenant  Benners.  The  Captain  was  a 
great  man.  But  he  was  human. 

With  uncertain  proportions,  as  seen  through  a 
fog,  the  Captain  of  the  "  Grant "  saw  a  dark-eyed 
woman  in  one  of  the  cars  of  the  Lehigh  Valley  train. 
The  little  waves  that  swished  up  against  the  side  of 
the  "  Grant "  repeated  the  query :  "  Is  not  Lieutenant 
Benners  one  of  your  subordinate  officers?"  and  as 
they  receded,  they  echoed  a  soft  sigh ;  as  though  from 
the  lips  of  a  woman  who  thought  of  what  she  would 
not.  Could  he,  by  means  of  this  artist,  square  the 
account?  Who  could  tell?  At  any  rate  his  own  soul 
would  not.  Said  the  Captain  of  the  "  Grant "  to 
himself,  "  I'm  damned  if  I  don't  cruise  around  there  a 
bit,  and  take  a  few  bearings.  "  Then  he  went  down 
to  his  room,  opened  a  locker,  took  out  a  bottle, 
poured  out  some  sort  of  stuff  that  looked  like  cold  tea, 
"  drank  'her  down, "  cleared  his  throat,  wiped  his 
lips  off  with  his  pocket  hankerchief,  and  — "  turned 
in." 

***** 

The  "Banker"  expressed  his  gratitude  to  Ola  for 
the  pleasure  she  had  given  him,  and  pressing  her 
hand,  as  he  bade  her  "good-night,"  reminded  her  that 
she  owed  him  a  letter.  (Poor,  tired  Ola!  it  seemed 
to  her  she  was  always  in  debt  to  him  in  that  respect.) 
Then  he  went  to  his  lonely  home.  "  Gad !  "  he  said  to 
himself,  "  she's  the  snappiest  little  thing  I  ever  knew. 
How  I  do  love  her !  She's  all  a  bunch  of  nerves.  But 
she'll  be  better  when  she's  my  wife.  Deuce  take  it, 

109 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

she's  the  hardest  woman  to  make  love  to,  I  ever  saw 
in  my  life.  Gad !  I  never  can  get  over  the  look  she 
gave  me  when  I  asked  her  to  let  me  kiss  her,  nor 
forget  the  letter  she  wrote  me  the  next  day.  I  am 
sure  she  wrote  it  with  an  icicle.  The  cold-blooded 
way  in  which  she  told  me,  a  repetition  of  that  'sin' — 
that's  the  word  she  used — 'sin'  against  the  establish 
ed  canons  of  her  conduct,  I  might  translate  into  her 
farewell,  was  enough  to  dishearten  the  bravest.  But 
T  go  on,  and  on,  and  on.  Why?  Because  I  love  her.  She 
once  told  me,  in  an  art  gallery  we  were  visiting,  that 
systematic  kindness  would  conquer  the  most  obdurate 
heart.  She  had  no  reference  to  me,  or  to  herself, 
either;  but  I  have  never  forgotten  those  words,  nor 
the  soft*  light  in  her  grey-black  eyes.  That  was  the 
only  time  I  ever  saw  that  light  there;  she  seemed  so 
happy  that  afternoon;  and  I  ?  I  am  always  happy 
when  I  am  with  her. " 

The  "  Banker  "  let  the  cold  water  run  into  the  tub, 
jumped  in,  rubbed  himself  off  briskly.  By  this  course 
of  treatment  he  fancied  he  kept  himself  looking  and 
feeling  younger. 

Then  he  "  turned  in.  " 

***** 

Ola  leaned  her  tired  head  against  the  window- 
pane  and  looked  up  at  the  stars.  She  had  forgotten 
the  "  Banker,  "  forgotten  the  Captain  of  the  "  Grant, " 
forgotten  Lieutenant  Benners,  forgotten  all  this  suf 
fering  world.  Up  there  dwelt  the  good  and  the  pure 
who  had  loved  her.  Thoughts  of  the  good  and  pure 
who  had  loved  her  hovered  around  the  "  Prince. ' 

no 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

That  he  might,  in  a  princely  way,  be  her  patron,  was 
all  he  asked.  To-night  this  princely  patronage 
seemed  of  little  consequence.  She  wanted  sympathy, 
encouragement,  faith.  She  was  nauseated  with  love, 
and  with  tokens  of  passion,  honorable  or  otherwise. 
The  bright  stars  looked  far  away,  and  cold,  and  piti 
less1,  and  unsympathetic.  She  walked  away  from  the 
window,  pulled  the  pins  out  of  her  black  curly  hair, 
shook  it  .down  over  her  shoulders,  donned  a  "  robe  de 
nuit,  "  and  she  "  turned  in.  " 


in 


CHAPTER     X. 
"  Tis  thus  they're  taught  to  woo  on  Wall  Street." 

"  Ola  I  love  you.  And  I  have  faith  in  your 
ability,  and  I  intend  to  encourage  and  assist  you.  I 
shall  see  that  your  works  become  known.  I  do  not 
consider  myself  competent  to  criticise.  We  will 
leave  that  to  the  public.  If  you  ask  my  opinion,  I 
will  give  it,  and  you  must  take  it  for  what  it  is 
worth.  One  of  these  days  I  will  have  you  for  my 
little  wife.  " 

Thus  daily  mused  Mr.  York  and  looked  satis 
fied  and  felt  satisfied;  felt  as  good  as  he  had, 
many  times  before,  when  he  was  "  long  "  on  a  strong 
rising  market — in  those  "  ticker  days, "  before  Ola 
had  "brought  him  to  his  senses.  "  But  he  was  too 
busy  a  man  to  spend  much  of  his  time  in  musing.  His 
features  would  soon  take  on  that  impenetrable  ex 
pression  which,  with  him,  meant  business.  This  was 
Thursday  and  he  had  to  close  out  and  get  the  cash  on 
something  by  Saturday  noon.  He  had  promised  him 
self  not  to  postpone  any  longer  that  which  he  had 
determined  to  do.  He  passed  in  review  the  various 
enterprises  he  was  "  promoting,  "  to  determine  which 
one  was  most  likely  to  yield  quick  money,  if  pressed  a 
little. 

"  It  must  come,  "  he  said.  They  were  to  dine 
up  town  some  where  on  Saturday  night.  When  he 

112 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

said  good  night  to  her,  he  would  give  her  a  few 
thousand  dollars — enough  to  start  her — and  say,  "Now 
go  it,  Baby;  before  your  books,  and  servants,  and 
masters,  get  to  the  end  of  that,  I  will  replenish  it. " 
"  Would  old  Hard  take  that  block  of  land  in  Harlem, 
I  wonder,  if  I  knock  off  one  or  two  per  cent ;  I'll  try 
him  on  it.  The  land  is  cheap  now  and  the  old  rascal 
knows  it,  but  unfortunately  I  am  pressed.  You  just 
wait  till  I  catch  you  'short,'  old  man,  and  I'll  squeeze 
you  till  you  squeal.  " 

Mr.  York  walked  out  of  his  office,  intent  upon 
driving  a  bargain  with  a  man  who  was  Hard  by 
name  and  hard  by  nature,  and  upon  getting  a  deposit 
on  the  transaction.  He  must,  for  Saturday  was  nigh  at 
hand,  and  he  was  still  "  backed  "  by  an  old  mission 
ary,  who  collected  money  of  the  "four  hundred  "  for 
work  among  the  slums  of  New  York.  Let  no  one  un 
derstand  that  this  old  missionary  was  a  dishonest 
man.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  turned  every  dollar  he 
collected  for  his  philanthropic  work  into  that 
work  as  fast  as  it  was  needed.  All  the  money  was 
honestly  recorded,  honestly  disbursed.  He  would  not 
put  his  Christian  conscience  at  such  severe  discount 
with  his  God  as  to  tamper  with  this  fund,  for  the 
Kohinoor  diamond.  But  if  he  could  "  back  "  Mr. 
York  occasionally,  when  that  gentleman  was  caught 
on  the  wrong  side  of  the  market,  and  Mr.  York  in 
gambler-fashion,  handed  him  back  his  advance  with 
from  one  to  two  hundred  per  cent  interest,  there  was 
nothing  wrong  about  that ;  certainly  not.  He  never 
exacted  anything  of  Mr.  York,  except  the  bare  re- 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

turn  of  the  money.  What  better  use  could  the  profits 
of  a  reckless  speculator  be  put  to,  than  buying  fat 
capons  for  one  of  the  Lord's  annointed?  Sure  enough, 
what?  The  old  missionary  was  an  honest,  honorable, 

Christian.    Who  shall  dare  deny  it? 

*  *  *  *  * 

Ola  wanted  to  fly  to  Mr.  York's  office;  once  in 
the  building,  never  was  elevator  so  slow,  she  thought, 
as  the  one  that  took  her  to  the  third  floor.  At  the 
door  of  the  first  office  she  inquired  for  Mr.  York, 
and  a  gentleman  with  grey  hair  looked  more  than  a 
little  astonished,  for  Mr.  York  was  not  in  the  habit 
of  having  "lady  callers.  " 

Mr.  York  touched  her  hand  lightly,  and  con 
ducted  her  to  his  private  office.  He  could  not  exactly 
take  her  in  his  arms  and  say  to  her,  "  Ola,  I  love  you, 
I  am  yours.  Will  you  say  the  same  to  me?"  He 
wanted  to,  but  that  little  piece  of  business  did  not 
seem  so  easy  in  that  private  office,  as  it  had  appear 
ed  to  be  when  he  was-  alone;  so  he  effected  a  com 
promise  between  his  desires  and  his  bashfulness  by 
saying,  "  Darling,  you  are  just  as  sweet  as  you  can 
be, "  and  he  fumbled  a  little  with  the  fringe  on  her 
wrap. 

She  thought  sadly  of  that  beloved  fringe,  and  re 
membered  joyfully  that  she  had  paid  twelve  dol 
lars  a  yard  for  it,  in  the  days  before  Will  Fallen 
"  hunted  her  down, "  and  began  absorbing  the  sur 
plus.  Thus  she  got  two  satisfactions  out  of  that 
fringe,  which  her  fancy  never  could  have  conjured  up 
at  the  time  she  scolded  herself  for  her  extravagance 

114 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

in  buying  it.  The  first  was  that  that  money  Will 
Fallen  never  could  get;  the  second  was  that  it  fur 
nished  a  conduit  for  Mr.  York's  nervousness  to  find 
ground,  and  so  pass  safely  off. 

To  Mr.  York's  remark,  "  Darling  you  are  as 
sweet  as  you  can  be."  She  said,  "Do  you  think  so?" 
and  she  laughed  a  little,  and  felt  nervous  and  cold. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  and  still  he  fumbled  with  that 
twelve-dollar-a-yard  fringe,  and  hesitatingly,  almost 
stuttering  a  trifle,  continued,  "  Now  darling,  I  can't 
go  up  town  with  you  to  dinner  to-night.  The  di 
rectors  of  the  A.  B.  C.  railroad  are  to  have  a  meeting 
with  the  directors  of  the  X.  Y.  Z.  railroad  at  the 
Astor  House,  to  arrange  for  a  ninety-nine  years' 
lease  of  the  X.  Y.  Z.  to  the  A.  B.  C,  the  A.  B.  C.  to 
guarantee  the  bonds  of  the  X.  Y.  Z.  and  to  build  one 
hundred  miles  of  the  road.  There  are  one  hundred 
and  six  miles  of  this  X.  Y.  Z.  road,  six  miles  of  it 
running  out  into  the  suburbs  of  the  city  of  P.  where 
all  the  wealthy  people  doing  business  in  P.  live,  to 
get  out  of  the  smoke  and  dirt  of  that  great  manufac 
turing  city.  Upon  this  six  miles  of  the  road  there  is 
to  be  a  five-cent  fare  collected,  the  same  as  on  the 
trains  from  here  to  Harlem.  I  got  the  capital  sub 
scribed  to  build  the  X.  Y.  Z.  road,  and  then  they  got 
into  a  wrangle  with  the  A.  B.  C.,  which  can,  I  be 
lieve,  prevent  us  from  getting  the  right  of  way;  and 
the  only  way  of  using  the  capital  subscribed,  is  to 
merge  the  X.  Y.  Z.  into  the  A.  B.  C.,  by  giving  the 
new  road  a  branch  of  the  old.  I  must  go  to  the  Astor 
House  and  meet  these  men,  for  I  have  a  commission 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

on  the  capital  subscribed,  and  also  a  contract  to  build 
and  equip  the  road.  " 

In  this  talk  Mr.  York  was  so  completely  at  home 
that  he  quite  forgot  to  fumble  with  that  twelve-dollar- 
a-yard  fringe.  But  he  looked  at  Ola  as  earnestly  as 
though  she  had  been  one  of  the  rebellious  directors  jf 
the  troubled  X.  Y.  Z.  road ;  squinted  a  trifle,  and  gave 
off  his  talk  on  finance,  in  sections,  by  a  peculiar 
little  nervous  motion  of  the  second  finger  and  thumb 
of  his  left  hand,  as  if  he  were  thus  flipping  away  and 
overcoming  any  trifling  objections. 

All  this  was  quite  ordinary,  comprehensible, 
Wall  Street  talk  to  Mr.  York,  but  Ola  felt  that  she 
was  at  a  disavantage,  so  now  she  began  to  fumble 
with  that  twelve-dollar-a-yard  fringe,  feeling  ever  so 
thankful  that  it  was  there  to  fumble  with. 

Quite  oblivious  of  her  discomfiture,  Mr.  York 
went  on,  "  Oh,  how  I  wanted  to  dine  with  you  to 
night,  you  little  angel ! "  and  he  leaned  forward  and 
kissed  her.  He  pressed  his  lower  lip  with  his  white 
teeth  after  he  had  taken  that  kiss,  and  in  his  soul 
he  said,  "  Oh !  what  happiness  will  be  mine  when  she 
is  my  wife." 

Harold  York  was  a  bull  on  the  Ola  Del  matri 
monial  stock;  the  proudest,  stiff est-necked  bull  that 
ever  charged  at  the  innocent  unoffending  red.  He 
would  catch  any  unlucky  bear  that  dared  to  go  short 
of  that  stock  "on  the  hip"  and  toss  him  so  high  that  he 
would  not  get  back  to  earth  until  the  common  stock 
had  paid  a  ten  per  cent  dividend,  the  preferred  was 
worth  a  thousand  a  share,  and  the  bonds — Well,  Mr. 

116 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

York  couldn't  think  of  estimating  the  value  of  those 
bonds  without  a  pencil,  a  ream  of  paper,  and  plenty 
of  time;  and  he  had  to  attend  the  meeting  of  those 
railroad  directors  at  the  Astor  House. 

"  Yes,  I  know  all  about  you,  darling.  I  have 
studied  you  night  and  day,  whenever  I  had  a  moment 
of  time,  for  five  months.  " 

"  Yes, "  said  Ola,  "it  is  just  five  months  to-day 
since  you  wrote  me  that  letter, "  and  she  gave  him  a 
look  with  those  grey-black  eyes  of  hers,  and  a  little 
smile  that  "  boosted  "  her  stock  another  point  or  two. 

"  That  letter  brought  me  to  my  senses ;  reclaimed 
me  from  the  life  of  a  reckless  speculator  and  a  worth 
less  stock  gambler,  living  upon  excitement,  and  of  no 
value  to  himself,  or  anybody  else — reclaimed  me, 
I  hope,  to  be  a  better  man.  " 

"  Then  I  must  have  a  sort  of  right  to  you,  if  1 
have  reclaimed  you,  "  said  Ola. 

"  Yes,  you  have  the  most  undisputable  right  to 
me.  I  am  yours,  and  yours  alone;  do  with  me  what 
you  will.  "  And  he  leaned  over  and  looked  at  her 
so  earnestly,  that  she  felt  quite  uncomfortable. 

Mr.  York  was  sitting  with  his  back  to  the  win 
dow,  but  the  light  from  it  fell  with  what  faint  force 
the  evening  permitted,  on  Ola's  face.  She,  wishing  to 
change  the  subject,  said,  "  You  have  me  at  a  disad 
vantage.  The  light  from  that  window  reveals  every 
expression  of  my  face  to  you,  but  yours  is  in  the 
shadow.  " 

"  I  do  not  want  to  take  advantage  of  you,  "  said 
Mr.  York,  "  let  us  change  seats.  "  But  when  he  arose, 

117 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

it  occurred  to  him  that  some  one  might  see  him 
through  that  window,  so  he  pulled  down  the  shade, 
lit  the  gas,  and  then  sat  down  again  in  Ola's  vacated 
chair. 

She  wondered  if  it  were  getting  late,  and  if 
she  were  keeping  him  from  his  appointment  at  the 
Astor  House.  "You  must  tell  me  when  it  is  time  for 
me  to  go  home,"  she  said. 

"  There  is  plenty  of  time  darling,  "  he  hastened 
to  assure  her. 

The  mention  of  the  Astor  House  turned  Mr. 
York's  thought  along  the  line  of  finance  again.  He 
said: 

"  I  have  been  awfully  busy  with  my  lawyer,  I 
have  a  suit  against  Jay  Gould  and  his  associates, 
which  will  come  up  for  trial  this  month.  This  is  the 
case  I  wrote  you  we  were  trying  before  a  referee.  We 
have  taken  it  away  from  the  referee,  and  placed  it  on 
the  calendar  again.  I  promoted  the  N.  &  F.  railroad. 
I  had  a  contract  with  the  N.  &  F.  Company  to  pro 
mote  the  enterprise,  that  is,  raise  the  money  to  build 
and  equip  the  road;  see?  and  I  was  to  have  ten 
per  cent,  commission  for  the  amount  of  money  I 
raised.  I  presented  the  enterprise  to  Jay  Gould,  and 
I  got  him  and  his  friends  to  take  it  up.  They  did 
furnish  the  money  to  build  and  equip  the  road.  I 
did  not  think  the  thing  would  go  through  so  quick, 
so  I  went  out  to  Chicago  to  attend  another  matter, 
and  while  I  was  gone  they  closed  the  thing  up  and 
left  me  out,  and  I  did  not  get  my  commission,  see? 
Gould  and  his  crowd,  and  the  old  original  company 

118 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

got  into  a  wrangle,  and  Gould  froze  them  out,  don't 
you  know.  The  road  cost  me  one  million  eight  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars  to  build.  I  have  sued  the  com 
pany  for  ten  per  cent,  of  that  amount,  which  is  one 
hundred  and  eighty  thousand  dollars.  I  shall  win 
my  case.  I  shall  have  no  trouble  in  proving  my 
claim.  " 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  have  to  go  hungry  until 
you  get  that  money  from  Gould, "  said  Ola,  to  whom 
this  law-suit  against  Jay  Gould  and  his  associates, 
was  the  airiest  castle  in  Spain. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  Gould  will  let  the  case  go 
to  trial;  I  think  he  will  try  to  compromise,"  said  Mr. 
York. 

"  If  he  should  offer  you  as  a  compromise,  a  pound 
of  candy,  and  a  pass  on  the  Manhattan  L.  to  Harlem 
and  back,  I  advise  you  to  take  it, "  said  Ola,  and  she 
laughingly  added :  "  We  will  ride  up  to  Harlem,  eat 
the  candy  as  we  ride  along,  walk  back,  and  thus  teach 
you  not  to  go  to  Chicago,  when  you  have  a  deal 
on  .with  Jay  Gould.  I  hope  you  did  not  have  to  give 
your  lawyers  a  very  big  retaining  fee. " 

"  No,  it's  a  contingent,  "  said  Mr.  York. 

"  They  will  need  a  microscope  to  see  the  speck 
they  get  out  of  it, "  said  Ola. 

"  I  am  doing  business  with  Jay  Gould,  and  we 
are  friendly."  Ola  laughed.  "  The  amount  of  money 
it  would  require  to  stock  my  little  ambitious  scheme 
is  not  great,  and  the  result  of  the  enterprise  is  more 
than  problematical;  but  I  fancy  you  could  take  it 

119 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

out  into  the  open  street  and  get  subscriptions  to  it 
more  easily  than  you  could  convince  any  sane  man 
or  woman  that  Jay  Gould  has  any  friendship  for 
you  or  any  one  else.  They  say  the  man  is  a  good 
husband  and  father,  but  they  say  nothing  else  good 
of  him.  " 

It  was  nearing  the  time  when  Mr.  York  must  go 
to  the  Astor  House,  so  Ola  arose  to  go,  and  he  ac 
companied  her  to  the  elevated  road,  paid  her  fare, 
and  taking  from  his  pocket  a  small  package  he  gave 
it  to  her,  saying,  "  Do  not  open  it  till  you  reach 
home." 

Then  he  fumbled  a  little  with  that  twelve-dollar- 
a-yard  fringe,  and  with  his  eyes  said:  "May  I?"  to 
which  she  answered  with  her  lips,  "  Yes." 

He  kissed  her  softly,  pressed  his  hand  gently  on 
the  fringe  that  had  formed  such  a  useful  party  to 
their  mutual  embarrassments,  and  she  stepped  on  the 
train. 

When  she  reached  home  she  opened  the  package. 
It  was  a  beautiful  pocket  book,  and  contained  three 
thousand  dollars  in  crisp  new  bills,  and  just  two 
words :  "  From  Harold.  " 

Then  she  was  in  a  fever  of  excitement  to  go  to  his 
office  and  put  the  thing  in  better  business  shape, 
and  sputtered  about  it  a  great  deal  to  herself.  The 
next  afternoon  when  she  called  at  his  office,  he  stepped 
out  into  the  hall  to  speak  to  her.  When  she  began 
to  protest  about  his  unbusiness-like  way  of  doing 
business,  Mr.  York  said : 

"  Now,  darling,  you  just  fix  that  up  any  way  to 
1 20 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

suit  your  little  self.  If  there  are  any  papers  you  wish 
me  to  sign  you  get  them  ready  and  mail  them  to 
me,  and  I  will  sign  and  return  them.  I  am  awfully 
busy  this  afternoon ;  there  is  a  man  in  the  office  who 
represents  the  B.  &  N.  Construction  Co.,  I  am 
negotiating  with  him  to  put  in  that  big  plant  on  the 
Harlem  river,  and  besides  that,  there  are  five  others 
waiting  to  see  me. " 

Vanquished  again  by  this  Prince  of  the  House 
of  York,  she  went  home  and  wrote  him  a  long  letter 
in  which  she  inclosed  her  note  for  three  thousand  dol 
lars. 

Mr.  York  read  the  letter,  he  even  read  it  twice, 
looked  at  the  note,  admired  her  signature,  smiled,  and 
saying,  "  I  should  hate  to  be  found  dead  with  such 
a  thing  as  this  upon  me,"  tore  the  note  into  small 
pieces,  throwing  them  into  the  waste  paper  basket, 
but  the  letter  he  put  in  his  pocket. 

Was  this  business-like?  No,  it  was  simply  a 
question  of  keeping  one  of  two  worthless  pieces  of 
paper;  and  Mr.  York  kept  the  larger. of  the  two;  kept 
the  one  upon  which  was  recorded  the  gratitude  of 
the  woman  he  loved. 

The  three  thousand  dollars  given  Ola  was  the 
commission  from  the  sale  of  the  block  of  land  in 
Harlem  to  old  Hard.  And,  with  the  exception  of  "  a 
little  old  change,  "  as  he  expressed  it,  it  was  all  he 
had  received.  That  did  not  matter;  the  missionary 
would  "  back  "  him  awhile  longer,  and  he  would  get 
something  else  through  before  many  weeks. 

121 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

In  a  few  days  Mr.  York  found  time  to  call  at 
Ola's  flat  where  he  talked  to  her  of  finance  and  love ; 
and  this  he  repeated  as  often  as  his  business  would 
permit. 


122 


CHAPTER    XL 

"  Love    from    every    heart    and    hand,    but    not    the 

smallest  token  from  the  man  for  whose  sake 

she  had  so  nearly  tasted  death." 

There  was  a  never-dying  yearning  in  her  heart  to 
see  Lieutenant  Benners;  to  know  again  that  respite 
from  thought,  and  the  goadings  of  ambition  which 
his  presence  had  always  given  her;  to  have  being 
without  suffering.  The  joyousness  of  his  life  was 
contagious.  Oh,  could  she  see  even  one  day  into  the 
future!  Oh,  for  some  oracle  to  consult!  Her  head 
ached  sadly  from  work  and  worry.  She  had  just 
received  a  telegram  from  the  "  Prince "  saying  he 
could  not  call,  as  he  had  anticipated.  This  was  a  re 
lief,  a  great  relief.  The  'humiliating  consciousness 
that  she  was  not  worthy  the  blind  adoration  Mr. 
York  gave  her,  at  times  pressed  heavily  upon  her. 

She  walked  up  and  down  the  floor  and  wished 
Ned  St.  Claire  would  run  in;  for,  although  she  never 
spoke  of  the  Lieutenant  to  him,  there  was  something 
so  "  tonicky  "  in  that  "nil  desperandum"  air  which  Ned 
always  had,  that  life  seemed  a  trifle  less  unsatisfactory 
after  half-an-hour's  conversation  with  this  friend  and 
brother.  But  no  one  came  near  her.  She  could  hear 
Nell  and  Jack,  contented  as  ever  with  each  other, 
talking  in  the  back  room.  Up  and  down,  up  and 
down  the  rooms  she  paced,  ever  and  ever  more  rest- 

123 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

less.  It  was  in  the  last  days  of  October,  and  the 
house  was  cold.  Her  fingers  were  stiff  and  blue.  She 
looked  out  of  the  window  up  at  the  sky.  There  were 
cold,  white-looking  clouds  drifting  slowly  along. 
The  "  Prince's  "  star  was  covered,  but  the  Lieuten 
ant's  star  twinkled  down  upon  her;  and  she  could 
almost  imagine  it  said,  "  There  are  lots  of  lovely 
women  where  I  am.  " 

Then  she  closed  the  blinds  with  a  snap,  even 
the  upper  parts  of  them ;  and  she  never  did  this  with 
out  wondering  if  he  would  wish  for  and  miss  the 
beacon.  Again  she  began  pacing  the  floor;  she  said 
she  was  freezing.  Why  was  it  people  always  came 
when  she  did  not  want  to  see  them,  while  if  there 
was  ever  a  time  when  she  hated  her  own  thoughts, 
and  could  fairly  scream  out  with  nervousness,  it  in 
variably  happened  that  the  sound  of  Nell's  and  Jack's 
happiness  came  tantalizingly  to  her  from  the  back 
room,  but  she  remained  alone? 

She  could  not  read,  although  the  "  Banker  "  had 
just  sent  her  a  lot  of  new  books;  she  would  not  sew, 
and  could  not  write,  though  many  unanswered  epistles 
from  loving  friends  mutely  pleaded.  She  sat  down 
at  the  piano  and  tried  to  practice ;  but  her  mind  wan 
dered  from  the  "  studies  "  and  she  found,  with  dis 
gust,  that  she  was  executing  stray  bits  of  popular 
music. 

"  Bah !  I  hate  popular  music.  " 

She  closed  the  piano  and  walked  to  the  chiffonier; 
thinking  she  would  read  the  "  Prince's "  little,  mo 
notonous,  tautological  letters  and  by  their  pure  intent, 

124 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

possibly  be  drifted  into  a  happier  frame  of  mind.  She 
opened  the  drawer  and  put  her  hand  idly  upon  a 
package  of  letters,  supposing  them  to  be  from  the 
"  Prince. " 

They  were  from  Adrien  Benners. 

One  after  another  she  read  them.  Then,  dis 
gusted,  she  tossed  them  back  into  the  drawer  with 
out  even  putting  the  rubber  band  around  them.  "  My 
God!  What  a  commonplace  lot  of  stuff;"  she  said. 
She  brushed  the  imaginary  or  real  dust  from  her 
hands  and  went  into  the  parlor  to  begin  again  her 
pacings  to  and  fro. 

Standing  before  the  pier-mirror  she  pulled  the 
pins  out  of  her  hair,  pretending  to  herself  that  she 
was  cold,  and  her  long  hair  would  keep  her  warm. 
Then  she  despised  herself  for  this  attempt  at  self- 
deception,  and  knew  she  was  only  living  over  again 
the  times  when  Lieutenant  Benners  had  sent  the  black 
mass  tumbling  about  her  shoulders,  and  had  laughed 
at  her  flushed  cheeks  and  disheveled  locks.  Shame 
facedly  she  brushed  it  all  out  smoothly  and  put  it  up 
on  top  of  her  head  again,  lingering  fondly  over  the 
little  curls  on  her  temples,  which  the  "  Prince " 
thought  so  beautiful.  What  should  she  do  to  rid  her 
self  of  herself?  She  tumbled  her  books  over;  the 
new  ones  she  had  not  resolution  enough  to  begin,  and 
the  old  ones  were  like  spent  wine. 

She  flicked  the  dust  off  her  Bible  with  her  hand 
kerchief,  and  thought  of  the  time  she  and  the  Lieu 
tenant  had  searched  its  pages  for  a  prophecy;  and 
how  hard  he  had  been  to  please ;  and  how  she  had 

125 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

opened  again  and  again  without  satisfying  him,  and 
how  at  last  he  had  smiled  when  she  read  something 
about  -two  bodies  that  were  so  close  together  that  no 
air  could  pass  between  them.  That  was  in  the  early 
days,  and  she  wondered  if  he  had  founded  a  hope  upon 
the  prediction.  Probably  not;  he  was  too  much  flat 
tered  by  all  women,  to  care  much  about  any  one. 
She  scarcely  knew  what  she  was  doing,  certainly  not 
why  she  did  it,  but  she  opened  "  The  Word  "  again. 
It  was  upside  down.  Then  she  laughed  to  think  how 
veritably  things  were  upside  down  with  them.  This 
very  starting  right,  as  it  were,  induced  her  to  read  the 
words  her  fingers  rested  upon.  "  First,  "  she  said, 
"  I  will  deem  this  applicable  only  to  what  might  be, 
if  I  turn  things  right  side  up ;  so  she  turned  the  book 
around  and  read: 

"  If  they  return  to  Thee  with  all  their  hearts  an-.l 
with  all  their  soul  in  the  land  of  their  captivity, 
whither  they  have  carried  them  captive,  and  pray 
toward  their  land,  which  Thou  gavest  unto  their 
fathers,  and  towards  the  city  which  Thou  hast  chosen, 
and  toward  the  house  which  I  have  built  for  Thy 
name;  then  hear  Thou  from  the  heavens  even  from 
Thy  dwelling  place,  their  prayer  and  their  supplica 
tions,  and  maintain  their  cause,  and  forgive  Thy  peo 
ple  Which  have  sinned  against  Thee." 

Much  thought  she  gave  these  passages  of  Scrip 
ture;  many  reflections  as  to  how  they  could  be  used 
as  a  simile,  illustrative  of,  and  applicable  to,  the  state 
of  affairs  existing  between  herself  and  Lieutenant 
Benners.  As  she  looked  down  upon  them  it  occurred 

126 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

to  her  that  she  had  begun  to  read  in  the  middle  of  the 
passage.  True,  it  was  just  where  her  finger  had 
touched,  but  what  of  that?  Had  she  not  a  right 
to  the  entire  sentence?  Then  she  traced  back  to 
find  the  period,  and  read  aloud: 

"  '  If  they  sin  against  Thee  (for  there  is  no  man 
which  sinneth  not)  and  Thou  be  angry  with  them, 
and  deliver  them  over  to  their  enemies,  and  they 
carry  them  away  into  a  land  far  off  or  near;  yet  if 
they  bethink  themselves  in  the  land  whither  they  are 
carried  captive,  and  turn  and  pray  unto  Thee  in  the 
land  of  their  captivity,  saying,  we  have  sinned,  we 
have  done  amiss,  and  have  dealt  wickedly;  if  they 
return  to  Thee  with  all  their  heart  and  with  all  their 
soul  in  the  land  of  their  captivity,  whither  they  have 
been  carried  captives,  and  pray  toward  their  land 
which  Thou  gavest  to  their  fathers,  and  toward  the 
city  which  Thou  hast  chosen,  and  toward  the  house 
which  I  have  built  for  Thy  name;  then  hear  Thou 
from  the  heavens,  even  from  Thy  dwelling  place, 
their  prayer  and  their  supplications,  and  maintain 
their  cause,  and  forgive  Thy  people  which  have  sinned 
against  Thee.' 

"I  wonder  if  I  have  sinned  against  him?"  she 
asked  herself.  How  many  times  had  she  proposed 
that  same  question  to  her  inner  consciousness?  With 
the  book  still  in  her  hand  she  went  to  the  desk  and 
wrote : 

'  If  I  have  sinned  against  thee  (and  who  is 
there  that  sinneth  not)  and  thou  be  angry  with  me, 
and  deliver  me  over  before  my  enemies,  and  they  carry 

127 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

me  away  captive  into  a  land  far  off  or  near '  Ah ! 
my  Love!  whether  I  have  sinned  against  thee  or  not, 
thou  hast  delivered  me  over  to  my  enemies,  and  they 
carry  me  away  captive,  into  lands,  sometimes  far  off, 
and  at  other  times  more  near ;  but  yet  I  am  ever  and 
ever  a  captive.  My  enemies  are  my  own  suspicions — 
perhaps  my  unjust  thoughts.  There  is  no  space  so 
great  that  thought  cannot  traverse  it  before  the  finest 
instrument  of  man's  invention  could  record  the  frac 
tion  of  time  consumed.  Chained  and  captive  is  my 
desire  toward  thee.  I  would  that  thou  wert  happy, 
I  would  that  I  could  make  thee  so.  Bah !  Thou  art 
always  happy.  Why  waste  any  wishes  on  thee?  I 
would  that  thou  wert  miserable,  even  as  I  am;  for 
I  would  that  thou  didst  love.  Oh,  peace !  Oh,  rest !  Oh, 
tranquility!  Come  and  abide  with  me.  Oh,  Hand 
Potent!  wipe  out  all  my  yearnings  for  perfection  of 
any  kind;  for  in  this  life  there  is  naught  to  gratify 
the  desire.  Let  me  be  a  fool!  Let  me  be  a  perfect 
idiot,  but  let  me  be  happy !  " 

But,  alas !  there  was  no  concentration  in  her ;  she 
could  not  write,  any  more  than  she  could  do  anything 
else.  Fatigued  nigh  unto  death,  and  with  no  just 
cause  for  weariness,  she  threw  one  arm  over  the 
Bible,  letting  the  other  hand,  with  the  pen  still  in 
her  fingers,  hang  down  at  the  side  of  her  desk,  and 
a  troup  of  vagrant  thoughts  stalked  around  in  her 
brain.  Could  she  be  happy?  She  tried  to  remember, 
and  was  forced  to  admit  that  over  the  entire  period 
of  her  life  of  which  she  had  any  remembrance,  there 
had  been  responsibility  in  plenty — moral  or  financial 

128 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

— but  happiness  had  never  been  hers.  Again  that 
tantalizing  sound  of  merriment  from  the  back  room. 
Happiness  there  was  for  others — none  for  her. 

"  Oh,  how  cold  it  is !  and  dreary  and  bleak !  My 

feet  are  like  ice.  I  wonder  if ?  I  hope  not  yet,  I 

have  some  letters  I  should  write,  first.  Can't  I  get 
warm  ?  "  And  she  walked  the  floor  again. 

It  was  growing  late;  she  heard  Jack  bid  Nell 
good  bye  and  go;  heard  Nell  shut  and  lock  the  hall 
door.  Through  the  glass  door  she  saw  that  the  light 
in  the  hall  was  extinguished.  Lucy  had  gone  to  bed. 
Soon  all  would  be  asleep,  and  she  would  be  alone  with 
her  nervousness.  How  could  she  endure  it?  She 
seated  herself  again  at  her  desk,  addressed  an  envelope 
to  Lieutenant  Benners;  then  she  wrote: 

"  For  some  reason  I  am  borne  down  with  the  con 
viction  that  I  shall  not  live  through — that  I  shall 
pay  for  my  folly,  my  life  as  the  price.  I  am  not  afraid 
to  die,  .1  have  no  desire  to  live.  When  I  am  gone, 
nothing  can  make  any  difference  to  me.  If  it  so 
happen  that  I  leave  with  a  clean  record,  that  my 
friends — and  I  have  many — in  speaking  with  sorrow 
of  me,  may  not  blush  that  they  honored  me  with  their 
confidence  and  love,  then  shall  I  not  have  one  regret. 
Perhaps  this  may  not  be ;  and  if  not,  when  I  shall  be 
no  longer  here,  either  to  defend  myself  or  to  regain 
my  lost  ground  by  patient  devotion  to  those  of  whom 
I  have  never  been  worthy,  I  shall  in  that  day,  need  too 
much  charity  myself,  to  be  scant  in  my  apportionment 
now  of  that  'chiefest  of  the  blessed  three'  to  you. 

"  Viewed  from  a  simply  human  standpoint,  and 
129 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

from  no  greater  knowledge  of  the  motive  within,  than 
one  person  can  have  of  another,  you  would  be  roughly 
judged  by  the  world.  Therefore,  I  shall,  to-night, 
destroy  all  your  letters,  which  might  be  the 
cause  of  unpleasant  comment.  You  once  told  me  you 
have  a  conscience;  to  that  I  leave  you.  For  myself, 
I  would  rise  to  that  height  whence  I  can  suffer  long, 
without  wail;  whence  my  thoughts  would  not  be  of 
the  wrongs  you  have  put  upon  me,  but  of  those  I 
have  done  to  others.  I  wish  to  think  no  evil  of  you 
now,  even  if  you  merit  it;  for  I  know  one  who  will 
mourn  for  me,  deeming  me  all  that  was  pure,  and  I 
do  not  deserve  it.  If  I  retain  my  reason,  I  shall  bear 
all  things  to  the  end,  without  a  word. 

"  It  is  possible  I  have  been  unreasonable,  exact 
ing.  Those  are  faults  which  you  will  never  commit, 
for  you  will  never — " 

She  groaned  aloud  with  the  agony  she  suffered. 
Oh,  she  was  so  cold !  She  went  into  the  dining- 
room  to  fix  some  hot  wine,  hoping  that  would  help  her. 
She  drank  it,  but  her  stomach  would  not  retain  it,  and 
she  threw  it  up.  Every  instant  the  pains  increased. 
Finally  Nell  heard  the  noise,  and,  opening  the  door, 
looked  in  astonishment  at  Ola. 

"  Good  heavens,  Ola,  what  is  the  matter  with 
you  ?  You  look  like  death.  " 

"  And  I  feel  like  it,  "  said  Ola,  as  her  teeth  chat 
tered  and  her  lips  and  finger  nails  assumed  the  blue 
of  a  coming  chill. 

"  Gracious,  girl,  get  into  bed  and  let  me  do 
something  for  you.  You  frighten  me  to  death.  " 

130 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

She  led  Ola  to  her  room.  Passing  Lucy's  door, 
Nell  knocked  on  it  and  said,  "  Lucy,  get  up  and 
dress  yourself,  Mrs.  Del  is  very  sick.  We  must  ring 
for  a  messenger  and  send  for  a  doctor.  " 

Lucy  came  out  in  a  few  moments,  with  as  near 
ly  an  expression  of  bewilderment  and  sorrow  on  her 
features,  as  she  was  capable  of. 

The  doctor  came,  but  he  seemed  not  in  the  least 
pleased  with  the  appearance  of  his  patient.  The 
poor  girl's  misery  was  pitiful  to  witness.  Aside  from 
excruciating  pains,  she  was  in  the  most  dreadful 
chill.  They  applied  heat  to  all  the  surface  of  her 
body,  and  the  doctor  administered  anaesthetics.  But 
it  was  daylight  before  the  sufferings  were  in  the  least 
moderated  by  the  opiates. 

Ola  had  not  been  able  to  answer  any  of  the 
doctor's  questions,  and  Nell  knew  nothing,  except  that 
she  had  found  Ola  in  the  dining-room  about  two  in 
the. morning.  Nell  and  Ola  had  been  friends  for  years, 
but  they  never  had  been  inseparably  intimate.  When 
the  doctor  went  away,  Nell  thought  she  would  write 
notes  to  Jack  and  Ned  St.  Claire,  telling  them  of 
the  state  of  affairs  in  the  flat.  Not  liking  to  leave 
her  friend  alone,  she  went  to  Ola's  desk  which  stood 
open,  with  her  scribblings  of  the  night  before  all  in 
sight.  Nell  noticed  the  envelope  addressed  to  Lieu 
tenant  Benners,  and  supposing  that  the  sheets  of 
writing  might  be  a  letter  to  him,  in  which  case 
she  would  enclose  and  mail  them,  she  began  reading. 
She  read  it  all;  then  taking  the  sheets  of  paper  and 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

envelope  up  together,  she  set  fire  to  them,  burning 
them  to  the  last  speck. 

"  You  shall  never  leave  any  such  witness  as 
that  behind  you,  my  girl,  "  said  Nell,  as  she  walked 
into  the  room  where  her  friend  was  lying.  As  she 
looked  at  Ola  she  thought,  "  So  he  has  brought  you 
to  this,  has  he?  'Ah,  my  poor  girl!  you  are  just  as 
impractical  in  matters  of  love,  as  you  are  in  business. 
You  turn  away  from  the  "  Banker,  "  because  he  uses 
perfumes  and  turns  in  his  toes.  Those  who  mean  well 
by  you,  you  never  have  time  to  see.  They  must 
present  themselves  at  a  proper  hour,  and  go  home  by 
eleven,  at  the  latest.  This  good-for-nothing  is  per 
mitted  to  ring  your  bell  at  any  hour  the  fancy  pleases 
him,  and  to  stay  as  long  as  he  has  a  mind  to.  You 
are  never  too  busy  to  see  him,  and  what  does  the 
scoundrel  care  for  you  ?  Nothing.  " 

Nell  knew  that  she  would  have  to  guard 
her  friend's  secret.  There  would  be  no  more  work 
for  her  while  Ola  was  in  danger.  She  dare  not  take 
the  chance  of  exposure  by  the  ravings  of  delirium. 
So  Nell  devoted  herself  completely  to  the  invalid ; 
she  was  vexed,  downright  angry,  at  Ola's  folly;  be 
sides,  she  hated  to  give  up  her  work,  so  she  took  what 
consolation  she  might,  by  grumbling  at  women  in 
general,  who  had  no  sense,  and  at  Ola  in  particular. 

For  a  number  of  days  the  doctor  gave  them  little 
encouragement.  Ola  was  delirious  most  of  the  time; 
it  was  pitiful  to  hear  her  rave.  She  fancied  that  she 
and  Lieutenant  Benners  were  in  a  hot  desert;  that 
a  great  lion,  seemingly  out  of  wanton  mischief,  had 

132 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

disemboweled  her,  and  the  Lieutenant,  through  fear 
of  the  beast,  wished  to  leave  her.  She  cried  out 
piteously  "  Don't  leave  me  here  to  die  alone,  I  will 
not  keep  you  long,  for  no  one  can  live  after  this.  You 
know  I  did  not  wish  to  come  here;  but  I  loved  you 
and  so  I  yielded.  You  will  come  out  all  right,  with 
life,  and  health  to  enjoy  your  life; -can  you  not  stay 
by  me  for  a  few  hours  longer  ?  Oh,  how  I  suffer !  You 
don't  know  how  I  suffer !  " 

Again  she  raved  about  a  most  dreadful  storm. 
She  thought  the  Lieutenant  was  shipwrecked,  and  that 
if  she  could  light  the  gas  and  open  the  blinds,  he  would 
get  ashore ;  but  that  "  Bronze  "  had  bound  her  with 
ropes,  so  that  she  could  not  move  a  muscle,  and 
then  had  swung  in  a  hammock  and  laughed  at  her. 
Again,  the  giant  with  one  eye  in  the  middle  of  his 
forehead,  and  his  face  all  blotched  with  salt-rheum, 
like  the  "  Pirate's, "  was  dragging  her  up  the  rocky 
side  of  -a  mountain  by  the  hair  of  the  head,  because 
she  would  not  marry  him.  And  she  called  most 
piteously  for  Lieutenant  Benners  to  come  to  her 
rescue,  but  he  told  her  to  wait  a  few  minutes  until 
he  should  have  finished  his  waltz. 

Ned  St.  Claire  and  Jack  called  every  day,  but 
they  were  kept  religiously  in  the  back  part  of  the 
house.  Nell  was  always  glad  to  see  Ned  for  he  was 
so  useful;  he  was  one  of  those  men  who  can  turn 
a  hand  to  anything,  and  he  was  delighted  to  be  of 
service  to  Ola  in  any  and  every  way  he  could.  The 
"  Prince "  sent  a  messenger  three  times  a  day  for 
bulletins  of  his  little  darling's  health. 

133 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

When  Ola  was  out  of  danger,  Nell  watched  her 
chance  to  replace  Lieutenant  Benners'  letters,  which, 
through  fear  of  exposure  though  them,  in  case  of  her 
friend's  death,  she  had  extracted  from  the  drawer  in 
which  they  were  kept.  A  nurse  was  engaged  and 
Ola  passed  through  the  dreary  days  of  her  convales 
cence,  surrounded  by  every  comfort  and  luxury  that 
love  could  suggest,  from  every  heart  that  felt  love; 
but  the  smallest  token  from  the  man  for  whose  sake 
she  had  so  nearly  tipped  fingers  with  the  King  of 
Terrors  never  came.  Nell  and  Ola  settled  down  again 
into  their  comfortable  friendship,  and  with  intuitive 
delicacy,  both  avoided  the  mention  of  Lieutenant 
Benners'  name.  Nell  returned  to  her  commonplace, 
at-the-present-profitable  labors  and  Ola  to  her  studies 
and  her  dreams. 

"  A  gentleman  called  to  see  you  about  some  de 
signs  while  you  were  ill,  Ola.  He  did  not  care  to 
leave  his  name,  but  he  will  call  again,  "  said  Nell  one 
day. 

"  Thank  you,  dear,"  said  Ola.  She  was  too  in 
different  even  to  ask  a  question  as  to  the  man's  looks. 
It  was  the  Captain  of  the  "  Grant,  "  and  he  did  call 
again;  it  was  designs  he  wished  to  see  Ola  about,  but 
not  the  kind  of  designs  that  either  Ola  or  Nell 
had  in  mind. 

It  seemed  difficult  for  Ola  to  get  well ;  she  looked 
pale  and  she  was  nervous  and  irritable;  but  she  in 
variably  said  she  "  was  well,  perfectly  well, "  and 
it  provoked  her  if  any  one  insinuated  that  she  was  an 
invalid.  She  wrote  to  Mr.  York,  appointing  an 

134 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

evening  for  him  to  call.  She  dressed  carefully,  re 
ceived  him  as  she  would  a  dear  brother;  but  he 
loved  her,  oh,  how  he  loved  her !  and  he  was  perfectly 
willing  that  any  one  should  know  that  he  "stood 
ready  to  marry  her  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night.  " 
He  followed  her  every  movement  with  his  eyes,  lis 
tened  to  each  sentence,  caught  and  treasured  up  in  his 
memory  her  every  word  that  was  in  the  least  affec 
tionate. 

That  evening  Nell  and  Jack  and  Ned  St.  Claire 
were  there;  and  later,  "Bronze"  called.  This 
young  woman  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  try 
ing  her  beautiful  eyes  on  the  "  Prince,  "  but  they  had 
no  effect  on  him. 

There  were  two  interests  in  his  life,  Ola  and  Wall 
Street.  Mr.  York  had  concentrated.  He  had  dedi 
cated  his  life  to  the  woman  he  loved ;  and  the  street 
so  world-famous  for  its  financial  possibilities,  he  con 
sidered  the  means  of  making  this  dedication  of  prac 
tical  value.  That  was  his  world ;  that  was  all  for 
which  his  soul  yearned ;  more  fortunate  than  most  of 
mankind,  he  possessed  his  heart's  desire  and  he  was 
happy.  He  was  in  the  ecstatic  raptures  of  love,  and 
he  would  be  rich,  fabulously  rich ;  he  would  make  his 
little  darling's  life  a  state  of  felicity  and  delight;  she 
should  not  have  a  care ;  some  day  she  would  weary  of 
her  chase  after  fame.  Then,  leaning  her  tired  little 
head,  so  gloriously  crowned  with  those  soft,  black 
curls,  on  his  shoulder,  she  would  say,  "  Harold,  put 
your  arms  around  me ;  let  me  rest  in  your  love.  " 

Then  they  would  be  married  and  he  would  kiss 
135 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

her  back  to  life  and  health ;  he  would  always  love 
her,  worship  her,  crown  her  queen  of  all  he  owned. 
Some  night  she  would  say  to  him  when  they 
were  both  old,  "  I  have  been  so  happy  with  you,  we 
have  both  been  so  happy  with  each  other,  that  we 
have  had  our  Heaven  in  this  life.  "  They  would  both 
sink  softly  to  sleep,  and  when  their  servants,  wonder 
ing  that  they  did  not  arise,  tremblingly  entered  the 
room  the  next  morning,  they  would  find  her  lying  on 
his  arm,  a  sweet  smile  frozen  on  her  lips  by  Death's 
kiss.  And  those  who  looked,  would  whisper  in  awe- 
subdued  voices,  "  They  are  both  dead.  "  And  his 
fellow  bankers  on  Wall  Street,  speaking  of  his  death, 
of  the  purity  of  his  home  life  and  his  adoration  of 
Ola  would  say,  with  that  practical  level-headedness 
for  which  they  are  so  justly  famous:  "  'Twas  the  best 
thing  that  could  have  happened  to  York.  He  never 
would  have  teen  worth  anything  after  his  wife  died. 
He  would  have  wandered  restlessly  up  and  down  the 
world,  seeking,  seeking,  seeking — though  he  would 
not  have  known  it — seeking  his  wife.  Yes,  'twas  a 
good  thing.  Each  was  spared  the  grief  of  the  other's 
death. " 

Then  the  bankers  and  brokers  and  promoters 
would  forget  him  and  the  beauty  and  purity  of  his 
life  and  the  appropriateness  of  his  death.  They  would 
return  to  their  banks,  to  the  Exchange  and  the  promo 
tion  of  enterprises.  And  he,  if  there  were  any  life 
beyond  the  grave,  would  float  into  that  eternity  of 
bliss,  the  glory  of  which  he  had  tasted  here,  with  his 
wife  in  his  arms. 

136 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Thus  he  dreamed  as  he  watched  her  flit  around 
the  room,  and  listened  to  her  vivacious  conversation. 
Ah,  the  sweet  dreams  that  may  come  to  us  when 
those  around  us  little  suspect  we  are  dreaming! 


137 


CHAPTER     XII. 
"Are  gentlemen  then  so  scarce?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  York  is  nice.  He  has  captured  my 
unqualified  approval.  And  as  to  Jack,  he  just  went 
into  spe-asms  over  him, "  said  Nell  the  next  morning, 
as  she  and  Ola  dallied  over  their  simple  breakfast. 

"  One  need  only  know  what  you  think,  in  order 
to  be  sure  of  Jack's  sentiments."  said  Ola,  and  she 
reflected  gratefully  of  the  "  Prince "  and  his  adora 
tion  of  her. 

Nell  ignored  this  remark.  She  always  accepted 
it  as  a  foregone  conclusion  that  she  did  the  think 
ing;  in  short,  that  she  was  she,  and  Jack  was  "the 
Co."  She  was  seemingly  intent  on  admiring  the 
separation  going  on  as  she  stripped  the  peeling  from 
a  banana,  and  continued,  "  The  calm  way  in  which 
he  does  not  conceal  his  adoration  of  you  is  simply 
charming;  and  the  equally  evident  way  in  which  you 
show  you  don't  adore  him,  is  charminger.  That  word 
is  strictly  my  own ;  mind  you  don't  infringe  on  my 
copyright.  " 

"  I'll  make  a  note  of  it.  "  said  Ola,  laughing  at 
Nell. 

"  You  know  how  the  idea  of  your  getting  married 
has  always  upset  me?"  Ola  nodded  her  head,  in 
token  that  she  understood  this,  and  Nell  went  on, 

138 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  Well,  I  think  I  can  stand  him  better  than  any  one 
else.  " 

"  You  seem  to  take  it  quite  for  granted  that  I 
intend  to  marry  him,  "  said  Ola. 

"  I  take  it  quite  for  granted,  Mrs.  Del,  that  a  man 
who  is  as  much  in  earnest  about  such  a  trifle  as  marry 
ing  any  woman,  as  Harold  York  is  about  marrying 
you,  never  fails.  " 

Ola  knew  that  whenever  Nell  called  her  Mrs. 
Del,  the  girl  had  reached  the  superlative  degree  of 
disapprobation  at  having  the  reasonableness  of  her 
opinions  questioned,  so  Ola  only  smiled  and  was  sil 
ent,  being  herself  quite  indifferent;  while  Nell  went  on 
airing  her  views  upon  marriage  in  general,  and  that 
same  institution  as  referring  to  her  friend  and  Mr. 
York  in  particular. 

"  Marriage  of  course  means  absorption, "  said 
Nell.  "  And  in  this  case  you  evidently  will  do  the 
absorbing.  You  will  remain  just  you ;  he  isn't  built 
to  monopolize  you,  that's  certain.  So  I  forgive  him 
and  am  willing  he  should  live.  I  don't  know  but  I 
am  a  little  bit  grateful  to  him ;  for,  with  him  as  the 
long-needed  pendulum,  your  clock  will  now  be  in 
running  order;  each  tick  will  mean  gold,  and,  event 
ually,  '  Blissdom.'  for  you." 

"  Blissdom,  "  meant  a  house  which  the  girls  had 
built  one  Sunday  morning,  as  they  dallied  over  their 
breakfast,  leaving  church-going  to  those  of  that  mind. 
This  house,  "  Blissdom,  "  was  constructed  with  all 
possible  and  impossible  conveniences  and  improve 
ments.  In  it  the  girls  were  to  dwell  forever.  It  was 

139 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

to  be  an  Adamless  Eden,  without  any  serpent  to  be 
guile  the  three  Eves. 

"  How  nicely  you  have  it  all  arranged, "  said  Ola. 

"  Haven't  I,  though  ?  "  And  I  tell  you  I  feel  more 
comfortable  about  this  marriage  than  I  did  as  affairs 
stood  a  while  back.  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  you  feared  I 
would  marry  Lieutenant  Benners?"  said  Ola. 

"  Um, "  said  Nell,  and  then  she  shut  her  lips 
tightly  together,  and  shook  her  head  in  a  most 
emphatic  expression  of  affirmation. 

Ola  laughed  heartily.  She  could  not  help  it.  The 
whole  affair  seemed  so  ridiculous.  "  You  had  a  per 
fectly  useless  worry,  my  dear  girl.  Lieutenant  Ben 
ners  is  not  a  marrying  man.  " 

"  Nor  anything  else  that's  honorable,  I  guess,  " 
said  Nell. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  is  in  many  ways  honorable,  "  said 
Ola. 

"Especially  with  women?"  said  Neil,  sarcastic 
ally. 

"  No,  dear,  not  especially  with  women.  The  man 
is  thoroughly  unscrupulous  where  women  are  con 
cerned.  No  one  knows  that  better  than  I  do,"  and 
Ola's  voice  was  full  of  reflective  sorrow.  "  But 
that  is  his  one,  his  only  fault;  and  he  has  charms 
which  few  possess. " 

"And  pray  what  are  these  rare  qualities?"  said 
Nell,  even  more  sarcastically. 

Ola  was  in  no  humor  to  notice  her  friend's 
acrimony ;  she  had  more  important  things  on  her  mind 

140 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

and  heart.  "Well,"  she  said,  "for  one  thing,  he  is  al 
ways  and  under  all  circumstances  a  gentleman — about 
the  rarest  thing  in  this  world,  I  should  fancy,  "  and 
noting  that  Nell  expected  her  to  limit  or  qualify  he! 
remarks  she  continued,  "  I  am  instinctively  a  student 
of  human  beings;  my  tastes  force  me  into  the  study. 
I  do  not  know  that  I  can  justly  claim  to  be  a  con 
noisseur,  but  it  is  certain  that  I  am  dogmatic.  I  see 
plenty  of  men  who  pass  through  the  world  labeled 
'  gentlemen ; '  to  the  superficial  obverser  they  answer 
every  requirement.  That  sideboard  is  solid  mahog 
any  ;  the  little  commode  in  the  corner  is  veneered. 
Glanced  at  casually,  the  commode  looks  the  better 
of  the  two  pieces ;  it  is  newer  and  probably  has  had 
better  care.  But  if  you  look  at  it  critically,  you  will 
probably  find  tiny  blisters  here  and  there,  which  reveal 
the  depth  of  the  veneer,  and  tell  you  most  unmis 
takably  that  beneath  that  thin  covering,  is  baser  ma 
terial.  There  is  just  that  difference  between  the 
the  patrician  gentleman,  who  has  several  generations 
of  ancestors,  on  both  his  father's  and  his  mother's 
side  that  were  exempt  from  the  unrefining  influences 
of  money-getting,  and  the  gentleman  who  is  the 
son  of  the  self-made  man.  It  takes  more  than  one 
generation  to  filter  the  blood  of  the  trafficker  suffi 
ciently  to  produce  a  gentleman.  I  am  as  certain 
that  Lieutenant  Benners  comes  from  a  noble  Southern 
family,  as  I  could  be  had  I  the  genealogy  of  his  family 
at  my  tongue's  end ;  and  I  have  scarce  ever  heard 
him  mention  his  people.  " 

"  How  do  you  know,  then?"  said  Nell. 
141 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

Ola  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said,  smiling 
sadly,  but  faintly,  "  Because  there  are  no  blisters 
on  him.  " 

Nell  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  "  No,  there  are  no 
blisters  on  him,  but  there  ought  to  be ;  and  there  will 
be  some  day,  when  he  gets  his  dues. " 

Ola  was  not  in  the  least  disposed  to  be  flippant; 
she  said  quite  seriously,  "I  am  sorry  to  confess  it,  but 
it  is  a  fact  that  goodness  does  does  not  amount  to  much 
to  me.  I  can  endure  sin,  but  I  cannot  endure  vulgarity ; 
I  can  endure  stupidity,  but  not  when  accompanied  by 
coarseness.  Where  women  are  concerned,  Lieuten 
ant  Benners  is  a  sinner,  from  the  very  hot-beds  of  sin ; 
but  no  woman,  be  she  young  or  old,  rich  or  poor, 
bond  or  free,  beautiful  or  hideous,  ever  stands  in  a 
car  in  which  he  is  seated.  Do  you  think  there  is  a 
minister  of  the  gospel  in  the  City  of  New  York  who 
can  say  the  same?  No  beggar,  whether  in  rags  or  in 
tags  or  in  velvet  gowns,  could  ask  a  favor  of  him 
and  receive  other  than  the  kindest  and  most  polite 
answer.  Last  Summer,  you  and  '  Bronze '  were 
away  at  the  sea-shore,  the  Lieutenant  rang  our  bell. 
I  know  his  ring  from  among  a  thousand.  I  was  in 
the  bath  at  the  time,  but  I  hastily  dried  my  body, 
jumped  into  my  bath-robe  and  opened  the  door  for 
him.  After  a  moment  or  so  he  said,  '  I  was  afraid  you 
were  not  at  home,  dear;  you  were  so  long  in  opening 
the  door.  But  I  see  the  cause  now,  you  were  in  the 
bath.  You  dear,  sweet,  clean  girl ;  you  will  wash 
yourself  into  a  shadow.' 

" '  If  I  do,  I  will  make  it  my  business  to  follow 
142 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

you,  wherever  a  shadow  can  go,'  I  said.  This 
pleased  him,  and  he  expressed  his  gratitude  after  the 
usual  fashion  with  him.  I  noticed  he  did  not  look 
well,  and  spoke  of  it. 

"  'No,'  said  he,  'I  feel  quite  miserable.  The  night 
I  was  here  last,  on  my  way  to  the  boat  I  was  accosted 
by  a  miserable-looking  Polish  Jew,  who  was  all 
broken  out  with  leprosy  or  small-pox  or  something  or 
other.  The  poor  fellow  looked  feverish  and  deli 
rious  or  demented,  and  could  scarcely  make  me  under 
stand  what  he  wanted.  But,  between  his  few  words  of 
English  and  my  few  words  of  German,  I  learned  it 
was  to  some  Home  for  Emigrants,  he  wished  to  go. 
It  took  me  some  distance  out  of  my  way,  but  I  got 
him  on  the  right  car,  paid  his  fare  and  told  the  con 
ductor  where  to  let  him  off.  The  next  day  we  sailed, 
and  in  a  few  days  I  began  to  feel  ill.  My  skin  feels 
tight  on  me  and  I  am  feverish.  If  I  am  no  better,  I 
do  not  think  I  will  go  on  the  next  cruise.  Should  I 
get  sick  and  go  to  the  hospital,  would  you  come  and 
see  me,  dear?  ' ! 

"  Of  course  you  told  him  you  would.  To  my 
mind  it  would  have  been  a  much  stronger  proof  of 
the  Lieutenant's  love  for  you,  if  he  had  remained 
away  until  he  knew  that  he  would  not  expose  you  to 
leprosy  or  smallpox  or  some  such  trifle,  "  said  Nell, 
bitterly. 

"  Yes,  I  told  him  I  would  go  to  the  hospital,  or 
anywhere  else,  if  I  could  ever  be  of  service  to  him," 
said  Ola. 

143 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"  Such  love  as  yours  should  have  a  reward, "  said 
Nell. 

"  If  my  love  should  be  rewarded,  for  love  is 
not,  never  was  and  never  will  be  anything  but  selfish 
ness,  what  can  be  said  of  the  Lieutenant's  act  of 
kindness  to  that  miserable,  disgusting  emigrant?  But 
we  stray  sadly  from  our  starting-point.  Nell,  the 
man  has  gone  out  of  my  life;  and  I  am  glad  of  it. 
The  one  thing  which  would  unfit  me  for  any  useful 
work  in  the  world,  is  Lieutenant  Benners.  But  I 
want  to  be  just  to  him,  and  certainly  you  should,  for 
he  never  did  you  any  harm.  You  will  never  in  your 
lifetime  know  one  with  a  sweeter  disposition,  a  more 
broad,  comprehensive  charity  and  fraternal  feeling.  I 
have  often  said  to  myself,  if  a  child,  a  happy,  joyous 
boy,  full  of  animal  gratitude  for  the  pleasure  of  living, 
had  thought  a  thought  in  which  he  wished  everybody 
could  be  as  happy  as  he  was  himself,  and  that  thought 
could  take  human  form,  it  would  walk  about  and  be 
known  to  men  as  Lieutenant  Adrian  Benners,  on  this 
day  of  our  Loard  serving  on  the  Revenue  Marine 
Steamship  '  Grant.' " 

"It's  a  wonder  the  '  Grant '  doesn't  sink,  with  all 
that  on  board,  "  said  Nell,  nastily. 

"  She  most  likely  would,  were  it  not  for  the 
counterpoise  she  carries,  in  the  shape  of  the  other 
officers, "  and  Ola,  laughed — laughed  most  heartily — 
for  Nell's  vindictiveness  towards  Lieutenant  Benners 
was  becoming  exceedingly  amusing.  Finally  she  ask 
ed.  "Nell,  why  are  you  so  down  on  my  handsome 
Lieutenant?  " 

144 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"Who  says  he  is  handsome?  He  had  a  dread 
fully  ugly  hand,  "  said  Nell. 

"  His  hand  is  a  trifle  unshapely.  Come  to  think 
of  it,  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  a  naval  officer  with  a 
beautiful  hand.  They  are  almost  as  universally  un 
gainly  as  the  hands  of  baseball  players.  I  wonder  if 
a  symmetrical  hand  would  form  an  insurmountable 
objection  to  admission  for  service  in  the  United  States 
Navy." 

"  And  then  he  has  a  dreadfully  swaggering 
walk, "  Nell  went  on,  determined  to  find  fault. 

"  Good  Heavens !  What  is  he  in  the  navy  for, 
if  he  can't  swagger?  You  wouldn't  deprive  the  man 
of  all  the  privileges  of  his  office,  would  you?"  and 
Ola  laughed  again  more  and  more  heartily.  "  We  admit 
the  ill-shaped  hand  and  the  swagger,  Nell ;  but,  for 
all  that,  Lieutenant  Benners  is  a  splendid  specimen 
of  the  animal  man.  He  is  not  tall  enough  to  give 
one  the  idea  of  a  Colossus,  nor  short  enough  to  sug 
gest  a  Liliputian ;  he  has  not  a  suspicion  of  fat,  nor 
is  he  just  bones,  covered  with  tendons  and  muscles. 
The  whole  man,  barring  the  hand  and  the  swagger,  is 
symmetrical,  perfect.  His  hair  is  inclined  to  be 
stubbv,  but  it  is  of  a  black  which  harmonizes  well 
with  his  glorious  blue  eyes  and  the  rich  flesh-tints 
of  his  face ;  while  his  smile  speaks  a  volume  of  tender 
sympathy.  I  can  never  see  him  when  he  is  happy, 
without  thinking  what  a  glorious  trinity  are  youth, 
beauty  and  health." 

"  Beauty,  like  everything  else,  is  a  matter  of 
taste, "  said  Nell,  and  she  showed  plainly  enough 

145 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

that  she  was  disgusted  with  Ola  for  her  pertinacity, 
especially  when  she  added :  "  It  is  useless  for  anyone 
to  try  to  show  you  spots  on  your  sun,  or  faults  in 
your  paragon.  " 

"  Now  you  are  as  unjust  to  me  as  you  are  to  the 
Lieutenant.  He  is  not  my  paragon.  I  can  see  the 
faults  he  really  has,  but  you  either  cannot  see,  or  are 
determined  not  to  acknowledge  the  virtues  he  pos 
sesses.  All  I  claim  for  Lieutenant  Benners,  he  most 
certainly  has.  I  can  imagine  his  placidly  offering  a 
cigar  to  an  outraged  husband,  whose  couch  he  had  de 
filed,  or  asking  him  out  to  take  a  drink,  and  then 
thinking  him  tiresomely  unreasonable  and  making  a 
much  too  great  ado  about  nothing,  should  the  man 
refuse  or  make  a  fuss.  This  I  can  easily  imagine,  but 
I  cannot  fancy  his  giving  an  unkind  or  ungentlemanly 
word  to  the  greasiest  tar  on  board  the  '  Grant.' " 

Nell  was  overpowered  but  not  convinced.  She 
herself  was  loyal  to  Jack ;  hence  the  Lieutenant  had 
never  made  any  impression  on  her.  On  Ola's  account 
she  was  loyal  to  the  "  Prince, "  whose  love  meant 
honor,  fame,  wealth,  to  her  friend.  She  was  afraid 
of  Lieutenant  Benners'  influence  on  Ola,  and  she 
could  not  bear  the  thought  that  Ola  should  hold  one 
friendly  remembrance  of  "the  unprincipled  libertine,' 
as  she  called  the  Lieutenant,  in  her  own  mind. 

Ola  took  up  a  Sunday  paper  and,  pushing  another 
over  to  Nell,  said :  "  Read  the  scandal,  dear,  and 
give  the  Lieutenant's  ears  a  chance  to  stop  burning. '' 


146 


CHAPTER     XIII 

"  There  are  as  many  different  grades  of  love  as  there 
are  men  and  women  who  feel  it. " 

Restored  to  health,  Ola  now  "  systematized  her 
life,"  as  she  expressed  it.  Before  her  illness  she  had 
engaged  a  little  maid  of  all  work,  Lucy,  for  Nora  was 
lost  to  them  forever,  on  account  of  having  married. 
She  now  arranged  for  such  lessons  as  she  wanted  and 
bargained  with  herself  to  do  the  old  spot-cash  work 
two  days  in  each  week  that  she  might  send  Will  Fal- 
lon  his  hush  money.  He  should  never  have  one  cent 
of  what  the  "  Prince  "  had  given  her,  she  said.  She 
opened  the  long-neglected  piano  and  practiced  finger- 
limbering  studies  for  two  hours  every  evening.  Partly 
on  account  of  this  systematizing,  principally  because 
she  was  freed  from  care,  she  accomplished  a  great  deal. 

During  his  reign  Ola  and  the  Lieutenant  used 
often  to  laugh  at  the  "  Pirate's  "  desire  to  marry  her. 
Benners  told  Ola  that  the  "Pirate"  was  the  only  man, 
except  himself,  whom  he  wished  her  to  see ;  he  was-  not 
a  bit  jealous  of  the  hideous  old  man.  But  she  saw 
little  of  the  picture-seller.  When  he  first  ventured 
to  tell  her  of  his  love  and  his  desire  to  marry  her,  and 
also  of  his  conviction  that  he  sometime  would,  she 
quite  candidly  told  him  her  ambitions  and  that  she 
would  not  marry  until,  they  were  satisfied.  He  would 

147 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

help  her  in  those  ambitions,  he  said,  "  if  it  did  not  cost 
too  much  money.  " 

It  evidently  cost  too  much ;  for  he  did  little,  ex 
cept  tell  what  he  could  do.  The  man  was  always 
dressed  in  such  shoddy  materials  that  Ola  felt  con 
vinced  he  had  no  money.  But  Ned  St.  Claire,  having 
made  a  few  inquiries  about  the  "  Pirate,  "  told  her 
the  man  was  rich.  His  store  on  the  Bowery  amounted 
to  nothing,  but  he  owned  real  estate  in  New  York 
City  and  Brooklyn.  His  principal  source  of  revenue 
was  from  the  sale  of  pictures  to  private  customers.  He 
was  always  "nosing  and  snooking  around  the  studios," 
so  Ned  said.  When  he  saw  a  picture  in  which  there 
was  merit — and  he  was  no  mean  judge,  though,  in  its 
true  signification,  he  knew  no  more  of  art,  than  he 
knew  of  astronomy,  or  the  occult  science  of  the 
ancients — he  made  a  calculation  of  the  need,  or  lack 
of  need  of  money  by  the  artist,  and  negotiated  or  not 
for  the  picture,  according  to  the  conclusion  arrived  at 
in  his  own  mind. 

Mr.  Bartlett  was  not  a  philanthropist.  He  was 
"  out  for  the  dust,  every  time,  "  so  he  himself  said. 
He  was  not  to  blame  that  those  artists  were  poor. 
'  They  always  were ;  it  was  a  condition  of  their  exist 
ence.  '  So  he  "  nosed  and  snooked  around  the 
studios,  "  picked  up  the  works  of  the  hungry  devotees 
of  art,  and  necessarily  and  naturally  grew  rich  on  his 
savings. 

After  Ola  had  "  systematized  her  life,"  the 
"  Pirate "  purely  by  circumstances,  became  quite  a 
regular  caller,  and  an  important  factor  in  her  exist- 

148 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

ence.  This  was  how  it  came  about :  The  woman 
had  a  perfect  abhorrence  of  anything  like  business. 
She  would  at  any  time  rather  be  cheated  than  barter. 
Now  and  then  as  she  finished  a  picture,  done  by  way 
of  practice  and  to  which  she  did  not  put  here  name, 
the  "  Pirate  "  found  a  purchaser  for  it.  He  did  not 
forget  to  charge  her  a  big  commission  for  what  he  did ; 
but  he  loved  her — he  said  so,  and  surely  he  ought  to 
know.  Lest  any  one  think  the  remark  satirical,  it 
might  be  well  to  state,  positively,  that  the  "  Pirate  " 
said  he  loved  Ola;  and  you  may  believe,  nay,  you  may 
know  he  did. 

Love,  like  light,  is  colored  by  the  medium 
through  which  it  passes.  There  are  as  many  different 
qualities  and  grades  of  love,  as  there  are  different 
men  and  women  who  feel  the  passion.  Lieutenant 
Benners  had  loved  Ola  Del.  The  controlling  prin 
ciple  of  his  own  life  was  the  joys  of  the  flesh ;  she 
ministered  to  those  epicurean  passions  and  pleasures, 
and  he  loved  her.  His  love  might  have  been  less  de 
sirable  because  it  partook  of  this  quality,  but  was  it  the 
less  sincere?  Certainly  not.  It  was  simply  colored 
by  the  medium  through  which  it  passed.  He  loved 
to  live,  and  he  lived  to  love.  That  was  the  motor 
which  guided  all  the  acts  of  Lieutenant  Benners;  so, 
naturally,  his  love  for  Ola  was  principally  a  thing  of 
passion. 

The  "  Prince "  loved  Ola.  But,  after  twenty 
years  of  the  life  of  "  a  man  about  town,  "  his  sick  soul 
turned  away  from  the  banquet  of  Epicurus,  and  rose 
to  holier  things.  All  she  had  ever  said  to  him  was 

149 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

of  the  purity  of  sexless  angels.  In  that  way  she 
won  his  love,  and  she  could  have  won  it  in  no  other 
way.  He  needed  something  to  worship,  she  supplied 
that  need;  and  because  his  ideal  of  her  had  never 
been  shattered,  he  loved  her.  His  love  was  more  to 
be  desired  than  the  Lieutenant's,  but  both  emotions 
were  love — each  simply  influenced  by  the  medium  of 
transit,  that  is  all. 

The  "  Prince, "  who  had  made  and  lost  more 
money  in  a  single  day,  than  the  "  Pirate  "  accum 
ulated  in  a  whole  year,  placed  little  value  upon  money. 
It  was  useful  to  make  his  darling  happy.  He  was 
going  to  gratify  her  ambitious  whim,  because  her 
heart  was  set  upon  it.  That  she  would  ever  make 
any  money,  that  she  would  ever  return  the  loan, 
were  things  he  made  no  more  calculation  upon,  than 
he  made  upon  gathering  together  and  selling  the 
smoke  which  had  gone  up  from  the  thousands  of 
cigars  he  had  consumed.  There  was  nothing 
mercenary  in  the  "  Prince's "  love,  and  there  was 
little  passion.  Why?  Simply  because  neither  prin 
ciple  dominated  his  own  existence.  The  one  grand 
want  of  his  being  was  a  pure  woman  to  love  and 
serve;  and  by  this  one  grand  want  was  his  own  love 
purified — made  valuable. 

The  "Pirate  "  loved  Ola  Del.  But  can  you  expect 
a  man  who  has  made  a  moderate  fortune  by  fifty 
years  of  toil  and  self-denial,  to  change  the  habits  of 
a  lifetime,  simply  because  he  has  learned  to  love  a 
woman  who  was  born  in  another  sphere  of  life? 
Teach  yourself  to  expect  only  the  reasonable,  and  not 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

to  be  disappointed  if  you  don't  get  even  that.  He 
sold  her  pictures  for  her,  and  he  returned  her  more 
money  than  she  could  have  gotten  for  them.  He  kept 
some  of  it?  Yes,  true  enough.  But  if  he  married 
her,  this  money  would  come  back  to  her,  and  if  he 
were  not  to  do  so,  he  did  not  want  to  have  to  count 
all  the  time  devoted  to  her  service  as  lost.  His 
whole  life  had  been  greed,  barter,  the  getting  the  best 
of  every  bargain  made.  Do  not  expect  his  love  to  be 
above  the  level  of  his  life?  No  spring  can  rise  above 
its  source,  no  love  will  be  holier  than  the  heart  in 
which  it  is  born.  The  "  Pirate  "  loved  Ola  Del ;  and 
his  love  was  as  pusillanimous,  as  mean,  as  mercenary, 
as  he  was  himself.  Why  not?  Are  not  the  parts 
always  of  the  same  material  as  the  whole? 

He  knew  she  was  above  him?  So  much  the 
better.  He  would,  for  that  very  reason,  also  get  the 
best  of  this  love-bargain.  That  was  why  he  loved 
her;  because  his  love  also  took  form  and  color  from 
the  medium  through  which  it  passed.  It  was  love, 
nevertheless, — the  only  kind  of  which  he  was  capable. 

Ola  did  not  know  the  "  Pirate  "  charged  her  a 
commission  for  selling  her  pictures,  but  had  she 
known  it,  she  would  have  been  glad  of  it.  The  sell 
ing  of  these  trifles  furnished  him  with  an  excuse  for 
seeing  her.  She  would  not  permit  him  to  talk  of  his 
love,  but  she  could  not  prevent  him  from  devouring 
her  with  his  lecherous  eyes. 

The  Captain  of  the  "  Grant "  called  again  to  see 
her,  and  was  presented  to  Nell,  who  was  in  the  par 
lor.  Nell's  being  in  the  parlor  was  an  irritation  to 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

the  Captain  of  the  "  Grant. "  He  was  there  on  busi 
ness.  He  wanted  to  cruise  around,  take  bearings, 
drop  a  sounding  line ;  and  Nell's  presence  rather  mili 
tated  against  this.  He  assumed  considerable  naval 
dignity,  and  Nell,  feeling  "de  trop,"  soon  left  them. 
Thus  the  first  shot  of  the  Captain  brought  down  its 
victim ;  and,  that  naval  dignity  having  been  ministered 
to  and  somewhat  appeased,  he  thawed  out  a  bit.  But 
he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  about  the  channel — 
where  it  was,  or  the  force  of  the  current.  If  he 
dropped  a  line,  trying  to  sound  Ola  as  to  her  feelings 
for  Lieutenant  Benners,  he  might  raise  a  squall  which 
would  sink  his  little  craft  and  ruin  his  expedition;  he 
must  be  cautious.  He  cruised  around  and  around ; 
he  made  many  attempts  at  dropping  that  line,  but  he 
was  afraid. 

It  will  scarcely  be  believed  that  the  Captain  of 
the  "  Grant "  was  afraid  to  sound  Ola  Del  about 
Lieutenant  Benners,  and  the  state  of  affairs  at  present 
existing  between  them.  How  could  it  be  that  a 
brave  and  gallant  man,  who  had  taken  part,  and 
a  part  covered  with  glory,  too,  in  one  of  the  most  re 
markable  marine  battles  of  the  War  between  the 
States,  should  now  be  afraid  of  this  little  woman? 
Listen !  In  the  war  he  had  many  shots  which  he 
could  fire,  Then,  also,  he  could  shoot  and  run  away, 
and  so  come  back  and  shoot  again.  But  this  affair 
was  different.  He  must  make  an  ally,  not  an  enemy 
of  this  woman;  hence,  he  must  capitulate.  Had  the 
question  been  one  of  fighting,  the  Captain  would  have 
been  at  ease,  as  he  was  a  master  hand  at  fighting;  but 

152 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

his  talents  were  not  of  the  diplomatic  order.  S:>, 
poor  fellow,  he  felt  afraid.  Extend  your  pity  to  him, 
and  your  congratulations  to  Ola  that,  for  once  in  the 
world's  history,  a  brave  officer  in  the  United  States 
Navy  felt  fear,  and  she  was  the  woman  so  honored 
by  the  fates  as  to  cause  that  fear. 

After  considerable  desultory  talk,  and  when  the 
evening  was  drawing  near  that  hour  at  which  respect 
able  married  men  who  are  calling  upon  artists  with 
whom  they  have  no  possible  business,  should  go  home, 
the  Captain  of  the  "  Grant "  called  his  valor  up  with 
a  fife  and  drum,  metaphorically  speaking,  and  said, 
"  Did  I  understand  you  to  say,  Mrs.  Del,  that  you 
are  acquainted  with  Lieutenant  Benners?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ola. 

"  Well,"  thought  the  Captain,  that  is  not  very 
encouraging,  to  say  the  most.  " 

"  You  found  him  very  pleasant,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  "  said  Ola,  softly.  Her  tone  was  modulated 
by  her  memory  of  the  Lieutenant,  and  not  by  her 
desire  to  be  courteous  to  the  Captain.  It  is  humili 
ating  to  be  obliged  to  admit  this,  but  it  is  a  fact.  And 
it  may  as  well  be  mentioned  right  here,  that  anything 
in  reference  to  the  navy,  said  or  done  by  Ola  Del, 
must  be  duly  discounted.  The  foolish  little  thing 
was  much  predjudiced  against  the  navy,  in  general, 
and  in  favor  of  Lieutenant  Benners  in  particular. 

"  Humph,  "  thought  the  Captain,  "I  don't  seem  to 
be  making  much  headway.  "  Then  aloud,  "  To  what 
do  you  suppose  Benners  is  indebted  for  his  wonderful 
success  among  women?" 

153 


THAT  MAN  PROM  WALL  STREET 

"  I  never  gave  the  matter  the  least  thought.  In 
fact,  I  did  not  know  that  he  was  wonderfully  suc 
cessful  with  women.  "  "  That's  a  fib,  "  thought  Ola, 
"  but  it  will  do  for  him.  He  is  a  man,  and  an  officer 
of  the  navy,  to  boot;  it's  better  than  he  deserves." 

"That's  a  lie,"  thought  the  Captain  of  the 
"  Grant,  "  "  but  she's  a  woman,  and  is  evidently  in 
love  with  Benners.  What  better  could  I  except  of 
her.  "  The  Captain  of  the  "  Grant  "  hoisted  a  flag 
of  truce,  and  resolved  to  return  to  the  attack  on  some 
future  occasion,  with  reinforcements  in  the  shape  of 
a  younger  and  better  looking  man.  He  would  invite 
Cameron  to  call  with  him.  Cameron  would  make  a 
conquest,  he  felt  sure  of  that;  and  this  would  hurt 
Benners  even  more  than  to  be  supplanted  by  him 
self,  the  Captain. 

Accordingly  he  returned  to  his  Revenue  Marine 
Steamship,  the  "  Grant,  "  and,  watching  an  opportunity 
to  speak  where  Lieutenant  Benners  could  and  must 
hear  him,  but  where  it  would  appear  as  if  the  remark 
were  not  intended  for  his  ears,  he  said,  "  Cameron, 
I'm  going  to  make  a  call  to-night  on  the  daintiest  bit 
of  femininity  I've  seen  in  many  a  day.  Don't  you 
want  to  go  along?" 

Of  course  Cameron  wanted  to  go  along.  "  Who 
is  the  woman?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  Mrs.  Del ;  an  artist.  There  seems  to  be  two 
of  them  in  the  same  apartment,  as  near  as  I  can  tell, 
so  I  suppose  a  handsome  fellow  like  you  can  have 
your  pick,  and  I'll  be  contented  to  take  the  one  you 
leave. " 

154 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Then  the  Captain  stole  a  sly  glance  at  Lieutenant 
Benners,  and  said  to  himself,  "  How  do  you  like  it, 
old  man?"  Lieutenant  Benners  gave  little  token  of 
how  he  liked  it.  In  fact,  he  did  not  care  much  about 
it,  anyhow,  one  way  or  the  other.  He  imagined 
Comeron  would  rush  into  making  love  to  Ola,  get 
squelched  for  his  impudence,  and  that  would  be 
the  end  of  it.  So  let  them  go.  It  was  his  night  on; 
he  would  scribble  a  few  lines  to  some  of  those  fond 
ones  he  had  left  behind  him  in  various  ports  in 
which  his  ship  had  been  stationed.  To-morrow  night 
he  would  be  off.  Ola  was  not  the  only  dainty  little 
woman  in  New  York.  No,  sir ;  he  could  testify  to  that. 


155 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  A  constant  stream  of  hypnotic  power  exuded  from 
every  pore  of  my  skin." 

"  Ola,  that's  his  Umptiousity, "  said  Nell,  who 
had  gone  to  the  door  when  the  bell  rang. 

"And  may  I  ask  who  his  Umptiousity  is?" 

"  Why,  didn't  you  recognize  his  'Is  Mrs.  Del  in?  ' ' 
said  Nell,  in  the  stentorian  voice  of  the  Captain  of  the 
"  Grant.  " 

Ola  laughed.  "  No,  I  didn't,  but  I  know  whom 
you  mean  now.  " 

"  Of  course  you  do ;  and  he's  got  the  handsomest 
chap  with  him  that  ever  swaggered.  If  you  don't  want 
him,  after  you've  seen  him,  turn  him  over  to  me, 
please, "  said  Nell,  looking  mischievously  at  Jack. 

"  I  will  give  him  to  you  now,  Nell,  "  said  Ola. 
"  without  ever  having  seen  him.  I  don't  think  I  care 
for  any  more  navy.  " 

"  Will  you?  What  a  dear  girl  you  are.  Good 
bye,  Jack, "  and  Nell  blew  Jack  a  kiss  from  the  tips 
of  her  fingers. 

"  Good-bye,  Jill,"  said  Jack,  returning  the  salu 
tation.  "  If  'the  handsomest  chap  that  ever  swag 
gered,  '  gets  tired  of  you,  come  back  to  one  who 
won't. " 

"  Now,  how  could  I  leave  such  a  fellow  as  you 
156 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

are?  "  said  Nell,  and  she  went  up  to  the  rocking  chair 
in  which  Jack  was  sitting  and  sat  down  on  one  of  its 
broad  arms.  "  Jack,  if  you  only  could  make  money.  " 

"  Oh,  I  could  if  I  wanted  to,  but  what's  the  use? 
It's  a  dreadful  bore,  and  I  get  along  quite  comfort 
ably  without  it.  " 

Ola  left  them  to  their  happiness,  but  she  sighed 
as  she  went  out  of  the  room. 

The  Captain  presented  Mr.  Cameron.  In  reflect 
ing  upon  the  ill  success  of  his  first  call,  the  Captain 
had  decided  that  women  are  mercenary  little  wretches, 
so,  thinking  perhaps  Ola  would  be  more  approachable 
from  a  business  point  of  view,  he  began  to  talk  with 
her  about  some  designs,  for  which  he  had  no  possible 
use.  Mr.  Cameron,  following  the  Captain's  lead,  sud 
denly  found  that  he  had  need  of  a  decorated  banner. 
Ola  listened  attentively.  The  Captain  said  she  could 
let  him  know  the  cost  by  writing  to  the  "  Grant.  " 

"  Thank  you.    I'll  write  in  a  few  days,  "  said  Ola. 

They  did  not  stay  long.  Unfortunately,  this 
"  shop  talk "  had  frozen  what  little  geniality  Ola 
felt,  and  she  could  not  be  sociable. 

When  they  reached  the  street,  Cameron  said, 
"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  frigid?  " 

"  Not  since  I  left  the  Arctics,  "  said  the  Captain. 

A  few  days  later,  the  Captain  received  the  fol 
lowing  letter  from  Ola : 

157 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"New  York,  December   I5th. 
"  Captain  Calhoun, 
"  My  dear  Sir : 

"  I  shall  not  be  able  to  execute  the  order 
you  left  with  me  a  few  evenings  ago. 

"  My  time,  at  present,  is  about  all  occupied  with 
work  and  study.  I  could,  and  perhaps  I  should,  put 
aside  something  of  little  or  no  profit,  to  attend  to 
your  and  Mr.  Cameron's  request;  but  I  make  it  a 
rule  not  to  have  any  business  relations  with  any  one 
with  whom  I  am,  or  could  be,  on  terms  of  social 
equality. 

"  It  is  possible,  if  you  really  want  the  work  of 
which  you  spoke,  that  Miss  Thome  would  be  glad 
to  oblige  you,  Miss  Thome's  views  and  my  own, 
upon  subjects  of  business  being  at  great  variance. 

"  If  you  will  kindly  accept  my  thanks  for  your 
charitable  intent  to  contribute  to  my  daily  bread,  and 
express  my  regrets  to  Mr.  Cameron  that  I  am  unable 
to  oblige  him,  you  will  place  under  many  obligations, 

"  OLA  DEL." 

"  I  wonder  if  God  himself  understands  a  woman,  ' 
said  the  Captain  of  the  "  Grant,  "  as  he  tossed  this 
letter  to  Cameron.  You  may  be  sure  that  Lieutenant 
Benners  was  not  around  then.  Cameron  had  given 
Benners  "  a  good,  stiff  bluff  "  when  the  latter  asked 
him  how  he  had  enjoyed  his  call  on  Mrs.  Del,  by 
going  into  ecstacies  about  Ola.  Having  taken  this 

158 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

stand  with  the  Lieutenant,  Mr.  Cameron  was  neces 
sarily  bound  to  try  to  keep  up  the  acquaintance  with 
Ola  in  order  not  to  be  obliged  to  confess  his  defeat. 
He  asked  the  Captain's  permission  to  answer  this 
letter.  In  his  reply,  Mr.  Cameron  said  just  about 
nothing,  except  to  express  his  thanks  for  the  pleasure 
of  her  acquaintance,  and  his  intention  to  call  and  con 
sult  Miss  Thome. 

He  did  call.  There  is  a  beneficent  Providence 
that  watches  over  naval  officers,  as  well  as  the  rest 
of  us,  it  is  hoped.  Nell  was  out,  and  it  was  one  of 
those  uncertain  "outs,"  when  she  might  be  back  at  any 
moment.  'Would  Mr.  Cameron  wait?'  'Yes,  Mr. 
Cameron  would  wait,'  and  he  did  wait  all  the 
evening,  and  still  Nell  did  not  come.  Ola  felt  her 
self  obligated  to  be  gracious  to  Nell's  patron,  and  in 
so  doing  she  succeeded  in  impressing  upon  Mr.  Cam 
eron  the  belief  that  "she  was  about  as  nice  as  they 
make  'em.  "  At  least  that  is  what  he  told  Lieutenant 
Benners  the  next  day. 

By  this  time  the  Lieutenant,  concerning  Cameron 
and  Ola,  had  come  to  feel  a  trifle  like  the  famous  dog 
that  lay  in  a  manger;  but  he  would  not  acknowledge 
it,  even  to  himself.  '  He  didn't  care;  why  should  he? 
There  were  plenty  of  women.'  But  there  was  that 
dread  uncertainty  as  to  just  what  position  in  Ola's 
affections  Cameron  had  reached.  He  noticed  that  they 
corresponded.  He  could  tell  her  writing  as  far  as 
he  could  see  it. 

Mr.  Cameron  first  sent  Ola  a  photographic  copy 
of  a  piece  of  statuary.  He  did  not  write  a  word; 

159 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

just  enclosed  his  card.  Naturally  she  wrote,  thanking 
him;  that  was  the  beginning.  Then  a  clipping  from 
some  paper,  concerning  matters  of  art;  then  a  maga 
zine.  He  was  shrewd  enough  never  to  send  any 
thing  of  sufficiently  great  value  to  give  her  an  excuse 
for  returning  it.  Then  they  went  to  the  theatre  to 
gether,  and  Ola  really  began  to  think  him  "  quite 
nice ; "  she  almost  forgave  him  for  belonging  to 
the  navy,  and  if  he  were  to  go  on  gaining  in  her 
good  graces,  it  was  only  a  question  of  time  when  she 
would  condone  the  crime  of  his  being  on  the  "  Grant.  " 
All  this  time  he  raved  about  her  to  the  Lieutenant, 
enjoying  the  effect  amazingly.  Ola  had  told  Mr. 
Cameron  that  she  had  once  known  the  Lieutenant; 
but  as  Benners  did  not  know  this,  he  considered  him 
self  bound  by  his  promise  not  to  mention  her  name 
to  any  of  the  officers  of  his  vessel.  One  day,  shortly 
after  one  of  the  men  had  brought  the  mail  from  the 
custom  house,  the  Lieutenant  noticed  Mr.  Cameron 
reading  a  long  letter  which  he  knew  to  be  from  Ola, 
and  over  which  Mr.  Cameron  seemed  to  be  greatly 
amused. 

"  You  have  a  fat  letter,  Cameron,  and  it  seems  to 
tickle  you  immensely, "  said  he. 

Mr.  Cameron  looked  up.  There  was  a  tantalizing 
twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  You  are  a  sly  old  dog,  Benners.  " 
he  said. 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  said  the  Lieutenant. 

"  Here  you've  let  me  go  on  making  a  fool  of  my 
self,  talking  of  Mrs.  Del,  and  it  seems  she  is  all  the 
time  a  friend  of  yours.  "  The  Lieutenant  did  not 

160 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

say  anything  and  Cameron  continued :  "  Sit  down. 
It  would  be  the  rankest  selfishness  in  me  not  to  let 
you  enjoy  this.  I  tell  you,  that  woman  is  one  in  ten 
thousand.  "  Then  Mr.  Cameron  read  : 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Cameron : 

"  I  have  been  gorging  my  intellectual  digestive 
organs  (?)  with  studies  on  hypnotism.  Some  strange 
papers  have  come  under  my  notice.  There  is  within 
me  a  morbid  something  which  finds  its  greatest  delight 
in  chasing  after  the  occult.  I  have  never  been  able  to 
get  any  actual  satisfaction  from  this  pursuit,  for  the 
reason  that  my  judgment  is  forced  continually  to  cast 
out  so  much  as  undemonstrated  suppositions  or  un 
proved  statements,  that  there  invariably  remains  little 
upon  which  to  work;  unless  one  wishes  to  give  one 
self  over  to  vain  delusions,  to  fancies  that  are  akin 
to  madness. 

"  But,  to  return.  With  one  of  the  most  wierd 
of  these  papers  in  my  hand,  I  retired,  finishing  my 
reading  in  bed. 

"  For  some  time  after  I  had  turned  out  the  light, 
I  found  difficulty  in  going  to  sleep.  And  when 
finally  I  did  sleep,  it  was  not  that  dreamless  slumber 
which  is  so  refreshing  to  mind  and  body;  but  rather 
an  activity  of  the  imagination,  in  which  that  faculty 
goes  rollicking  and  rioting  around,  rejoicing  in  its 
emancipation  from  the  shackles  of  reason. 

"I  dreamed,  oh,  how  I  dreamed!  And  in  my 
dreams  this  passed  before  me — or,  rather,  this  I 
passed  through : 

161 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"  My  bell  rang,  and  my  deaf-mute  eunuch  ser 
vant  opened  to  Lieutenant  Benners.  How  in  the 
world  that  deaf-mute,  being  a  deaf-mute,  heard  the 
bell,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  solve  for  you.  We  will 
place  that  to  the  mysteries  and  happiness  of  the 
dream. 

"  But  to  return  to  my  visitor.  The  moment  my 
hand  touched  Lieutenant  Benners',  I  realized  that 
'  power  went  out  from  me ;'  that  the  man  was  mine 
to  command. 

"  Now,  be  it  understood,  I  have  so  often,  in  my 
waking  hours,  been  told  by  gentlemen  that  I  might 
order  their  lives  to  my  own  liking,  and  have  sorrow 
fully  learned  the  proffered  surrender  was  hedged  by 
the  mental  reservation  that  my  liking  must  accord 
with  their  own,  that  I  stepped  fearfully  on  the  sur 
render  preserves  in  Lieutenant  Benners'  case,  lest,  as 
upon  former  occasions,  I  should  find  my  feet  in  quick 
sands. 

"  No  fear.  My  power  was  absolute.  He  sat  or 
stood  or  reclined  or  sank  on  his  knees,  or  did  any 
thing  else  I  bade  him.  I  put  a  soft  pillow  under  his 
head  and  stretched  him  out  on  that  couch  which  you 
must  remember.  Then  I  pressed  his  lids  gently  down 
over  his  eyes,  and,  holding  them  for  an  instant,  I 
said :  '  Sleep !  sleep  with  the  unconsciousness  of 
death. ' 

" '  And  immediately  a  deep  sleep  came  upon  him  ' 
— a  sleep  so  profound  that  I  was  sure  I  could  remove  a 
rib  with  as  little  pain  to  the  patient  as  when  the 
Great  Jehovah  performed  that  operation  on  Adam,  and 

162 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

thereby  furnished  the  father  of  all  mankind  with  a 
woman  as  an  excuse  for  his  sins. 

"  My  goodness,  how  I  digress !  •  I  looked  at  my 
sleeper  and  thought :  '  What  shall  I  do  to  demon 
strate  that  he  does  not  suffer?'  Nothing  suggested 
itself  except  to  remove  that  irritating  blue  tattoo 
mark  on  his  little  ringer,  which  is  so  offensive  to  my 
sight.  This  I  did. 

"  Then  while  he  slept  on  like  a  mummy,  I  called 
my  servant  and  told  him  to  take  off,  to  the 
last  vestige,  Lieutenant  Benners'  clothing;  and, 
having  done  so,  to  place  the  sleeper  comfortably  in 
bed  and  bring  the  clothes  to  me.  I  was  obeyed.  I 
then  dressed  myself  in  the  Lieutenant's  clothes.  I 
remember  how  I  laughed  when  I  niticed  how  large 
the  shirt  collar  was,  and  how  my  feet  shambled  along 
in  those  great  shoes. 

"  By  the  sign  language  I  told  my  servant  to 
guard  the  house  and  the  sleeper  until  my  return.  Then 
I  sallied  forth  to  join  the  other  officers  of  the  U.  S. 
Steamship,  '  Grant.' 

"  No  one  disturbed  me.  No  one  seemed  to  take 
the  least  congnizance  of  my  ill-fitting  attire.  By 
degrees  I  came  to  know  that  a  constant  stream  of 
hypnotic  power  exuded  from  me.  In  fact,  all  who- 
walked  within  sight  of  me  were  at  once  the  vassals, 
of  my  peculiar  power.  To  all  the  world,  except  my 
self,  I  actually  was  Lieutenant  Benners;  there  was 
nothing  ungainly  or  improper  in  my  clothing;  my 
smooth  face  carried  a  moustache,  as  also  an  indication 
of  a  needed  shave ;  my  feminine,  skirt-hampered  walk. 

163 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

was  changed  into  a  sort  of  'sad-sea-dog-from-shle- 
to-side  swagger.' 

"  For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  felt  the  joy  of 
living. 

"  I  boarded  the  '  Grant '  as  naturaly  and  easily  as 
if  I  had  been  used  to  it  all  my  life,  and  got  into  my 
bunk.  You  came  to  my  door  and  said,  'Hello,Ben- 
ners,  are  you  asleep  ? ' 

"  '  No, '  I  said,  '  come  in. ' 

"  You  came  in  and  thumped  yourself  down  on  the 
foot  of  my  bed — pardon  me,  I  mean  of  the  foot  of 
my  bunk. 

" '  I  can't  sleep,  for  the  life  of  me, '  said  you. 

"  '  What's  the  trouble? '  said  I. 

"'Oh,  I  don't  know;'  then  a  long  pause;  then, 
'  Benners,  do  you  understand,  can  you,  did  you  ever 
understand  a  woman?' 

"  I  laughed  and  said,  '  So  that's  it,  is  it? ' 

"  You  remained  in  a  moody  silence  and  did  not 
appear  to  appreciate  my  sympathy.  So,  changing 
tack :  '  You  mustn't  even  try  to  understand  women, 
Cameron.  That  is  not  what  they  are  for.  Yours  is 
the  mistake  so  many  men  make,  and  it  is  exactly  the 
reason  they  get  along  so  poorly  with  women.  There 
is  one  rule  to  follow,  and  that  one  rule  will  do  for 
them  all — at  least  it  has  always  worked  well  with  me. ' 
Here  you  raised  up  and  looked  hopefully  at  me,  so  I 
continued,  '  just  be  a  thorough  innuendoist. ' 

"'Now  for  God's  sake  what's  an  innuendoist?' 
said  you  eagerly. 

" '  An  innuendoist  is  a  man  skilled  in  innuendoes, 
164 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

hints,  insinuations ;  one  who  never  makes  actual 
statements.  You  may  kiss  a  woman,  if  you  want  to; 
that  means  much  or  nothing,  just  as  the  girl  has  a 
mind  to  take  it.  Give  her  a  box  of  candy,  varied  oc 
casionally  with  a  few  flowers,  but  be  careful  not  to 
overdo  it.  And  above  all  things,  never  tell  a  woman, 
in  so  many  words,  that  you  love  her. ' 

"  '  But  suppose  I  do  love  her,  and  want  to  know  if 
my  love  is  returned  ? '  you  anxiously  asked. 

"  '  But  you  musn't.  That  spoils  everything.  The 
noblest  woman  will  become  the  veriest  tyrant,  and 
show  it  too,  if  she  sees  she  can.  I  was  never  guilty 
of  the  folly  myself,  but  I  have  seen  others  try  it. ' 

" '  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  were  never 
in  love?'  you  asked. 

"  '  No,  never; '  said  I. 

'  Then  how  the  devil  can  you  tell  a  man  who  is 
in  love  what  to  do?  I  wonldn't  give  a  damn  to  buy 
candy  and  flowers  and  books  for  a  lot  of  petticoats 
I  don't  care  a  cuss  for,'  (I  beg  pardon  for  putting  this 
profanity  into  your  mouth,  but  we  are  none  of  us  re 
sponsible  for  what  we  dream.)  Let  me  continue :  '  I 
want  one  I  can  love,  and  I  want  her  to  love  me, '  you 
said. 

"  '  Don't !  You  won't  be  happy  while  you  live, 
and  you  won't  live  as  long, '  I  said. 

: '  Oh,  you  be  damned,  with  your  hypocrisy.' 
(Beg  pardon  again)  and  then,  you  surly  fellow,  you 
went  out  of  my  room. 

"  In  my  dream  it  did  not  occur  to  me  there  was 
anything  strange  in  my  expressing  sentiments  so 

165 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

contrary  to  what  I  actually  feel.  The  reflection  of 
my  waking  moments  is  that  I  must  have  absorbed 
those  sentiments  from  the  Benners'  clothes. 

"  Among  the  various  things  I  had  to  do  while  I 
was  on  the  '  Grant, '  was  to  keep  the  'wind  watch. 
In  point  of  fact  I  do  not  know  a  '  wind  watch  '  from 
a  city-hall  clock,  or  a  Tiffany  chronometer;  I  never 
theless  wound  that  '  wind  watch  '  to  the  taste  of  a 
lord  high  admiral. 

"  I'll  let  you  into  a  little  secret,  which  is  not  to 
be  passed  along,  mind  you;  namely,  to  wit:  The 
principal  thing  a  naval  officer  has  to  do  is  to  sign  the 
pay  roll,  wear  a  uniform,  and  select  as  many  sweet 
hearts  as  may  happen  to  be  congenial  to  his  taste,  in 
every  port  in  which  his  vessel  anchors  over  night. 

"  I  hobnobbed  with  the  Captain,  who  was  a  little 
superficial  in  his  hospitality.  (Mighty  bad  taste  on 
his  part.)  Of  course  it  was  on  account  of  that  New 
port  affair.  (In  my  waking  moments  I  haven't  a 
ghost  of  an  idea  what  that  affair  at  Newport  was,  but 
I  seemed  to  understand  it  perfectly  then.) 

"  I  discovered  that  I  got  more  letters  from 
women  than  all  the  other  officers  on  the  '  Grant, '  put 
together. 

"  I  remember  that  the  satisfaction  I  took  in  read 
ing  them  was  not  owing  to  any  vital  interest  I  felt 
in  the  writer,  but  simply  because  I  was  sustaining  my 
reputation  as  a  Don  Juan  by  those  missives  of  love, 
lengthy  and  otherwise. 

"  A  beautiful  youth,  not  more  than  eighteen,  I 
should  fancv,  came  staggering  along  the  deck  late 

166 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

one  night.  Drunk!  Oh,  how  drunk!  My  heart 
ached.  He  was  only  a  common  sailor,  but  he  was 
young  and  so  handsome.  By  a  strange  freak  I  for 
got  I  was  a  man.  I  felt  like  a  woman,  like  a  mother 
to  that  boy;  and  I  told  him  so.  Bursting  out  into  a 
drunken,  insulting  laugh,  he  said,  'Aw,  get  along! 
What  are  you  givin'  us?  A  damned  pretty  mother 
you  are,  Benners. ' 

"  Then  I  knew  the  boy  was  also  hypnotized. 

"  I  put  my  hand  in  his  and.  said :  '  See  me  as 
I  am,  my  boy/  and  I  led  him  to  a  bench,  where  both  of 
us  sat  down.  He,  besides  myself,  was  the  only  one 
who  knew  I  was  a  woman.  All  through  the  night 
we  sat  there,  and  the  'wind  watch'  wound  itself  up 
automatically.  The  steamship  '  Grant '  was  rocked 
gently  by  the  tide,  while  I  told  my  boy  many  sweet 
things,  many  beautiful  things  a  mother  can  feel.  We 
promised  each  other  we  would  live  for  one  another; 
he  should  be  my  son,  I  his  mother;  he  should  leave 
the  navy  and  do  something  respectable.  (It  goes 
without  saying  that,  in  my  waking  moments,  I  should 
not  have  insinuated  a  lack  of  respectability  as  one 
of  the  characteristics  of  the  United  States  Navy.) 

"  I  took  my  beautiful  boy  home  with  me. 

"  My  deaf-mute  dressed  Lieutenant  Benners  and 
put  him  back  on  the  couch.  I  waked  him.  He  did 
not  know  that  he  had  slept  one  moment,  but  he  had 
lain  there  seven  days.  In  that  time  I  had  gone  through 
the  gamut  of  all  the  wicked  things  men  do ;  from  get 
ting  drunk  to  seducing  my  best  friend's  wife  (how 
much  those  clothes  of  the  Lieutenant  were  respon- 

167 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

sible  for),  and  had  finally,  of  my  own  accord,  laid  all 
those  seductive  attributes  of  masculinity  aside,  for  the 
purer  pleasure  of  being  a  woman  and  a  mother. 

"  Through  almost  limitless  space  does  the  soul 
travel  in  one  brief  hour.  My  boy,  my  beautiful  boy, 
was  with  me ;  I  loved  him  and  he  loved  me.  His  bright 
face  filled  my  soul  with  joy.  My  life  was  full. 

"  Alas !  Alas !  from  my  pinnacle  of  happiness,  I 
fell  to  most  profound  sorrow.  My  deaf-mute,  in 
jealous  anger,  murdered  my  boy  before  my  very  eyes. 
And,  catching  me  by  the  hair  of  the  head,  was  about 
to  cut  my  throat;  when,  with  a  loud  scream,  I  awoke, 
jerking  a  plentiful  supply  of  my  hair  out  with  the 
clasp  of  a  bracelet  I  had  on  my  arm. 

"  I  had  slept  less  than  an  hour. 

"  Now,  I  wonder,  if  to  any  extent  my  dream  was 
true  to  life.  Did  I  live  the  life  of  a  man?  Or  was  the 
whole  horribleness  of  the  thing  toned  down  by  my 
woman's  fancy?  Is  it  because  I  have  settled  down  to 
the  belief  that  all  men  are  promiscuous  and  unprin 
cipled,  as  far  as  women  are  concerned,  and  naval 
officers  essentially  and  particularly  so,  that  in  my 
dreams  I  put  such  words  in  Lieutenant  Benners' 
mouth?  If  so,  where  did  I  find  the  bits  of  genuine 
sentiment  which  you  expressed  ? 

"  Ship  ahoy !  Land  ahead !  It  was  but  the  echo 
of  a  hope,  deep-hidden  in  my  own  heart,  that  some 
where  on  this  earth  there  lives  and  breathes  a  true 
man,  and — ah,  selfishness  sublime ! — that  I  may  find 
him. 

"  Would  a  deaf-mute  eunuch  be  capable  of 
168 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

jealousy?  Can  there  be  in  such  a  masculine  a  mur 
derous  appropriativeness  which  would  prompt  its 
owner  to  prevent,  at  any  cost,  a  woman  from  being 
happy  with  any  love  bestowed  upon  another  or  re 
ceived  from  another? 

"  Can  you  give  all  these  questions  answer? 

"  Your  friend, 

"  OLA  DEL." 


169 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  Had  I  known  of  your  love  in  time,  I  would  not  have 
trespassed.     But  it  is  too  late  now. 

Mr.  Cameron  interspersed  the  reading  of  this 
letter  with  much  laughter  and  frequent  remarks  not 
calculated  to  harmonize  well  with  Lieutenant  Ben- 
ners'  fastidious  tastes. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  reading,  the  Lieutenant 
simply  remarked,  "A  well-written  and  interesting  let 
ter.  "  Then  he  went  away  to  his  room  and  felt  ugly. 
He  was  not  in  touch  with  the  mirthful  feelings  of  Cam 
eron.  Had  he  expressed  himself  in  the  slang  of  the 
age  he  would  have  said :  "  Excuse  me  but  I  don't  see 
where  the  laugh  comes  in.  "  Naturally  not ;  people 
seldom  do  when  the  laugh  is  at  their  expense.  But 
Mr.  Cameron  saw  where  the  laugh  came  in ;  and  to 
him  the  most  enjoyable  feature  of  the  whole  affair  was 
Lieutenant  Benners'  evident  pique. 

The  Lieutenant  said  to  himself,  "  What  do  I 
care  about  either  the  letter  or  the  woman  ?  "  And 
then  he  answered  his  own  question  most  emphatically 
by  saying,  "Nothing.  "  But  he  went  on  thinking 
about  the  letter  and  the  woman.  With  a  feeling  of 
satisfaction  he  reflected  that  it  was  a  very  different 
sort  of  epistle  from  those  she  used  to  write  him. 
Why  should  he  care  whom  she  loved?  He  did  not 

170 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

care.  She  naturally  would  love  some  one;  but,  con~ 
found  it!  why  should  she  have  fallen  to  Cameron's 
lot?  It  was  not  pleasant  for  him  to  be  obliged  to 
listen  to  the  man's  lovesick  encomiums  of  Ola.  The 
particulary  fine  point  about  this  which  nettled  him 
was,  that  while  he  assured  himself  there  were  plenty 
of  women,  it  had  still  been  more  easy  for  him  to  boast 
that  he  could  supply  her  place  at  an  hour's  notice, 
than  it  had  been  to  do  so. 

Would  she  ever  be  to  Cameron  what  she  had 
been  to  him?  He  did  not,  he  would  not  believe  it. 
But  she  might.  Well,  if  she  did?  Why  should  he 
care?  Why?  That  was  a  big  question  Lieutenant 
Benners  asked  himself.  Who,  in  his,  or  another's 
behalf,  can  answer  it?  He  was  almost  tempted  to  try 
to  get  her  back.  Not  that  he  wanted  her,  but  simply 
to  show  Cameron  'where  the  laugh  came  in.'  No,  he 
did  not  want  her;  he  was  quite  sure  of  that.  But, 
supposing  he  did,  how  was  it  to  be  done?  There  could 
be  no  harm  in  speculating  on  that.  So  he  contrived 
ways  and  means — or  at  least  he  tried  to. 

Here  again  he  found  himself  balked.  Oh,  well, 
let  it  go;  he  did  not  want  her.  It  was  time  for 
luncheon ;  but  the  meal  did  not  suit  him  any  better 
than  anything  else.  He  had  a  worse  and  a  still  worse 
opinion  of  that  cook.  The  dinner  last  night  had  been 
bad.  It  was  Cameron's  month  to  cater,  perhaps  that 
had  something  to  do  with  it.  Then  he  checked  him 
self  for  being  unreasonable.  It  was  his  day  off,  he 
would  go  into  the  city  and  amuse  himself.  After  the 
meal  was  over,  Cameron  came  to  the  door  and  handed 

171 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

the  Lieutenant  two  French  novels  which  he,  Cameron 
had  borrowed  two  or  three  months  before.  Mr.  Cam 
eron  apologized  for  having  kept  them  for  so  long,  he 
had  forgotten  them. 

"  By  the  way,  Benners,  who  made  the  marginal 
notes  and  pencilings?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Why  ?  "  said  the  Lieutenant,  as 
he  carelessly  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  books. 

"  Oh,  nothing;  only  they  somehow  remind  me  of 
Ola, "  said  Cameron  as  he  walked  away. 

When  he  said  he  did  not  know  who  made  those 
marginal  notes,  Lieutenant  Benners  had  told  one  of 
those  princely  falsehoods,  which  rest  so  easily  on  the 
masculine  conscience.  He  knew  perfectly  well.  Ola 
had  given  him  the  books  to  read,  but  he  was  not  easy 
in  French,  so  he  had  not  bothered.  "'So  he  calls  her 
Ola,  does  he?"  said  the  Lieutenant  to  himself.  "I 
wonder  if  he  has  thawed  her  out  enough  to  attempt 
that  familiarit}^  in  her  presence?  By  gracious,  I  never 
got  that  far. " 

Well,  here  was  a  sickly  excuse  for  writing  to  her. 
He  would  return  those  books.  But  why  not  just  send 
them  through  the  mails?  She  would  know  from 
whom  they  came.  That  did  not  seem  to  "strike  him 
favorably,"  so  he  wrote : 

'  My  Dear  Mrs.  Del : 

"  A  brother  officer  to  whom,  feeling  sure  of  your 
willingness,  I  loaned  a  couple  of  books  belonging  to 
you,  has  but  this  moment  returned  them  to  me.  I 

172 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

must  ask  your  pardon  for  having  kept  them  so  long; 
the  fact  is  that  both  my  friend  and  myself  forgot  them. 
"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  learn  from  you,  with  my 
most  sincere  thanks  for  the  favor,  how  and  when  I 
may  return  your  property. 

"  Very  truly  your  friend, 

"ADRIAN   BENNERS." 

He  posted  this  letter  with  his  own  hands,  and 
felt  in  a  trifle  better  humor. 

When  she  read  the  Lieutenant's  letter,  Ola  said 
to  herself,  the  while  smiling  and  shaking  her  head : 
"  Oh,  no,  my  handsome  Lieutenant,  oh,  no ;  I  am 
much  happier  now  than  I  was  when  you  were  in 
power.  I  have  my  '  Prince  '  to  worship  me,  though 
I  don't  see  much  of  him — he  is  too  busy  making 
money.  I  have  my  '  Pirate,'  to  disgust  me ;  I  have  my 
friends  to  amuse  me;  and,  last,  my  dear  Lieutenant, 
I  have  that  handsome  Mr.  Cameron,  of  whom  I  am 
sure  you  are  not  over-fond,  to  bring  me  candy,  and  to 
take  me  to  the  theatre.  And  he  suits  me  much  better 
than  you  did.  I  am  a  little  afraid  he  is  going  to  ask 
me  to  marry  him ;  they  all  want  to  marry  me,  or 
worse,  but  never  mind  that.  That  Revenue  Marine 
Steamship  'Grant,'  is  an  excellent  place  for  you  to 
stay,  dear.  It's  just  exactly  the  distance  I  like  to 
have  you  from  me,  dear."  So  she  wrote : 

"  Lieutenant  Banners, 
"  My  dear  Sir : 

"  The  books  of  which  you  wrote  are  not  worth 
173 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

the  postage  it  would  take  to  send  them.  Though 
written  by  the  best  French  authors,  they  are  soiled 
and  tattered,  and  it's  always  offensive  to  have  such 
things  around  the  house.  Throw  them  overboard 
when  you  are  out  at  sea. 

"  Yours, 

"  OLA." 

The  only  consolation  Lieutenant  Benners  got  out 
of  this  letter  was  that  the  signature,  "  Yours,  Ola,  " 
seemed  to  indicate  he  was  not  completely  unrooted. 

The  "  Grant "  cruised  around  and  came  back.  The 
first  evening  they  were  in  New  York  was  Cameron's 
night  off.  Wishing  to  go  ashore  himself,  the  Lieu 
tenant  asked  Mr.  Cameron  to  relieve  him. 

"  I  would  like  to,  old  man,"  Cameron  replied,  "but 
I  can't.  There  is  some  one  at  the  other  end  waiting  for 
me.  I  will  be  here  to  relieve  you  in  the  morning,  and 
will  stay  a  couple  of  days  if  you  want  me  to,  but 
to-night  I  have  promised ;  it  is  dedicated.  " 

There  was  no  help  for  it,  the  Lieutenant  had  to 
stay ;  and  Mr.  Cameron  went  to  that  "  some  one  at 
the  other  end  "  who  was  "  waiting  for  him.  "  He  did 
not  come  back  until  the  grey  dawn,  either.  Benners 
remembered  bitterly  the  morning  he  had  seen  the  sun 
rise,  and  where  he  had  been.  He  felt  as  if  Mr.  Cam 
eron  had  wronged  him.  It  formed  no  part  of  Cam 
eron's  plan  to  tell  the  Lieutenant  that  he  had  not  seen 
Ola  at  all  that  night ;  let  Benners  wince ;  what  did  he 
care? 

The  Lieutenant  now  knew  he  could  not  sneak 
174 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

back  to  Ola's  heart  or  hearth.  If  he  were  to  get 
there  at  all,  he  must  march  boldly  in  with  band  play 
ing  and  colors  flying.  He  wrote  her: 

"  If  I  should  ask  you  to  see  me  and  hear  me  at 
tempt  to  justify  myself  (for  you  wrong  me)  would  you 
refuse? 

"  ADRIAN." 

On  the  bottom  of  this  note  she  wrote  two  words: 

"No. 

"  Ola. " 

This  was  at  least  a  gain.  He  called.  Nell  and 
Jack  were  in  the  parlor,  so  he  would 'have  no  oppor 
tunity  to  say  anything  private  to  Ola  till  they  went 
out,  and  this,  Nell  seemed  not  much  inclined  to  do. 
At  the  next  ringing  of  the  bell  who  should  be  ushered 
in  by  Lucy  but  Mr.  Cameron,  who  had  got  some  of 
the  officers  to  relieve  him.  The  fates  were  against 
Benners  but  Nell  was  jubilant;  and,  that  she  might 
chuckle  to  her  heart's  satisfaction,  she  and  Jack  re 
tired  to  their  own  part  of  the  house.  Nell  was  not  a 
bit  afraid  Mr.  Cameron  would  retreat  and  leave  the 
field  to  his  rival;  she  could  see  that  Cameron  was  in 
earnest  and  honest. 

The  three  in  the  parlor  got  along  harmoniously 
together.  Ola  sent  Mr.  Cameron  to  a  port-folio  in 
the  back  parlor  to  search  for  an  engraving  which 
she  knew  was  not  there.  Naturally  he  did  not  find 

175 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

it.  After  he  had  spent  some  time  in  the  search  Ola 
called  out,  "  What's  the  matter  Mr.  Cameron?  Is  your 
sight  failing  you?"  She  arose,  and  when  she  was 
beside  him  she  said,  softly,  but  not  so  softly  but  that 
Lieutenant  Benners  could  hear  her,  "  Let  me  help  you 
out  of  your  trouble,  since  I  got  you  into  it.  " 

Then  she  looked  at  him  in  a  way  that  made  him 
wish  Benners  safe  at  the  North  Pole  without  an  over 
coat;  and  himself  in  a  hammock,  under  the  spreading 
branch  of  a  tree,  in  the  sweet  summer  time,  with  Ola 
by  his  side,  eating  bon-bons.  While  there  was  enough 
in  the  look  which  Ola  gave  Mr.  Cameron,  to  send  the 
blood  tingling  through  his  veins,  there  was  nothing  in 
it  upon  which  Liuetenant  Benners  could  found  a. 
charge,  even  if  he  had  had  the  right  to  do  so.  This  he 
knew  and  therein  lay  the  discomfort  of  the  situa 
tion.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  when  the  two  gentlemen 
took  their  departure — and  they  went  together — they 
carried  away  with  them  very  diverse  sensations. 

It  was  late  when  they  reached  the  "  Grant,  "  but 
they  sat  down  to  have  a  smoke  together,  and  the 
Lieutenant  then  said,  "  Cameron,  I  have  often  heard 
you  say  that  if  a  friend  of  yours  loved  a  woman,  you 
would  not,  if  you  could,  take  her  from  him.  " 

"  Yes, "  responded  Mr.  Cameron,  knowing 
thoroughly  well  to  what  the  Lieutenant's  remark 
would  lead,  and  enjoying  the  embarassment,  as  only 
a  successful  rival  can. 

"  Well,  I  love  Mrs.  Del,  Will  you  prove  that  you 
are  not  an  idle  boaster  by  giving  her  up?  " 

"  This  is  not  a  fair  test,  Benners.  I  love  Ola, 
176 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

too.  "  How  it  galled  the  Lieutenant  to  hear  Cameron 
call  her  Ola.  "  You  should  have  told  me  of  your 
love  when  you  first  heard  Captain  Calhoun  ask  me  to 
call  there.  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  I  should,  and  I  would  have  done 
so,  but  I  was  under  promise  to  Mrs.  Del  not  to 
mention  her  name  on  board  the  '  Grant. ' ' '  Then,  after 
a  pause,  "  This  rather  complicated  matters,  you  see.  " 

"  Yes,  I  see, "  said  Cameron.  "  But  I  tell 
you,  old  man,  I  can't  do  it.  Ask  me  anything  but 
that.  Had  I  known  of  your  love  in  time,  I  should 
not  have  trespassed.  But  it  is  too  late  now.  I  love 
her  and  I  mean  to  marry  her  if  I  can.  " 

Lieutenant  Benners  laughed  bitterly.  He  could 
not  help  it.  Then  he  said,  "  Goodness,  man !  do  you 
think  she  would  marry  you?" 

"Why  not?"  said  Mr.  Cameron,  in  astonishment. 

"Why  not?  Because  Mrs.  Del  is  an  ambitious 
woman.  She  would  never  think  of  settling  down  in 
life  on  the  salary  of  an  officer  in  the  navy.  Why,  man 
alive,  she  makes  more  money  now  than  you  do, "  said 
the  Lieutenant,  earnestly. 

"  That  may  all  be  so,  but  I  am  not  thinking  of 
buying  her.  If  Ola  loves  me,  and  I  think  she  does, 
she  is  not  the  woman  to  cast  love  away  with  one 
hand,  that  she  may  take  gold  up  with  the  other.  And, 
if  it  comes  to  that,  what  have  you,  in  the  way  of  gold, 
to  offer  her,  any  more  than  I  have?  " 

"  Nothing,  "  said  the  Lieutenant,  positively  and 
finally.  Marriage  with  Ola  Del  or  any  other  woman 
was  not  in  the  books  of  Lieutenant  Benners;  but 

177 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

he  could  scarcely  proclaim  his  views  to  a  brother 
officer  who  had  already  declared  himself  on  Honor's 
side. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I'll  turn  in.    Good  night.  " 

"  Good  night. " 

And  they  both  turned  in. 


178 


CHAPTER     XVI. 

How  much  "  water  "  it  takes  to  make  a  railroad  cost 
nothing  a  mile. 

The  "  Prince  "  was  the  busiest  man  in  New  York. 
During  the  day  at  his  office,  and  almost  every 
evening  at  some  of  the  uptown  hotels  he  was  plunged 
deep  in  his  promoting  enterprises  of  various  kinds. 
But  Sunday  afternoon,  about  three,  he  usually  joined 
Ola,  Nell  and  Jack  at  the  flat,  where  the  four  had  din 
ner  and  spent  the  evening  together. 

The  first  time  they  sat  down  to  Sunday  dinner 
together  in  that  little  dining  room,  the  "  Prince " 
said,  "My,  how  cozy  this  is!  How  I  shall  enjoy  a 
home.  I  never  had  one.  " 

The  table  was  square — just  the  size  for  four — and 
there  was  everywhere  an  artistic  touch  and  taste  man 
ifested.  Jack  was  Ola's  viz-a-viz,  and  Nell  faced  the 
"  Prince. "  They  chatted  and  ate,  and  after  Lucy 
had  removed  the  coffee  and  desert  dishes,  she  placed 
matches  and  ash-receivers  on  the  table  and  then  went 
into  the  kitchen  and  closed  the  door. 

The  "  Prince "  looked  inquiringly  at  Ola,  who 
laughed  softly  and  said,  "  Don't  you  want  to  smoke?  " 

"Oh,  may  we?  What  of  the  curtains?"  and  he 
glanced  at  the  soft  hangings  at  the  windows. 

"We  never  consult  them,"  said  Ola.. 

"No,"  said  Nell,  "This  is  Liberty  Hall  for  ail 
179 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

of  Ola's  guests.  I  have  known  Jack  and  '  Bronze  ' 
to  fill  this  room  so  full  of  smoke  that  you  could  stand 
all  night  and  pitch  it  out  the  window  with  a  snow 
shovel. " 

As  the  two  men  lit  their  cigars,  Jack  thought, 
"  The  only  thing  that  consoles  me  for  having  to  wait 
so  long  for  Nell,  is  the  absolute  freedom  which, 
wedded  to  right  doing,  dwells  here.  "  The  "  Prince  " 
was  thinking,  "  Oh,  when  she  is  my  wife !  "  Then 
to  Ola,  "  It  seems  an  awfully  long  time  since  I  was 
here.  What  have  you  been  doing,  Baby?" 

"  Daubing.     And  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  darling,  I  have  been  awfully  busy.  It  has 
been  a  very  exciting  week.  Money  is  easy  and  capital 
can  be  obtained  for  any  good  enterprise. " 

"  Heavens,  Jack,  why  don't  you  shin  around  and 
get  a  good  enterprise  ?  You  know  how  much  we  want 
money,  "  said  Nell. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  haven't  much  talent  in  that  line,  " 
said  Jack.  "  I  suppose  you  have  all  sorts  of  schemes 
and  schemers  come  to  you?"  he  added,  looking  at  the 
"  Prince.  " 

"  And  off-color  and  on,  I  suppose,"  said  Ola. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  Now,  for  instance,  there  is  one  that 
came  to  me  last  week.  James  H.  Edwards,  a  re 
tired  banker,  asked  me  if  I  could  find  a  market  for 
one  million  dollars  worth  of  defaulted  securities, " 
and  the  "  Prince  "  took  a  slip  of  paper  out  of  his  coat 
pocket  upon  which  was  a  list  of  said  defaulted 
securities,  and  handed  it  to  Nell,  who  read  aloud: 

"  Sixteen  hundred  shares  of  the  M.  R.  &  O.  R.  R. 
1 80 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

stock.  One  hundred  of  the  D.  S.  &  V. ;  five  hundred 
of  the  M.  S.  &  D. ;  seven  hundred,  S.  M.  &  A. ;  three 
$1,000  M.  B.  Y.  &  H.  bonds;  four  $1,000  C.  R.  &  C.  A. 
bonds;  ninety-seven  $1,000  H.  &  Y.  N.  bonds;  four 
$500  H.  &  Y.  N.  bonds;  thirty-one  $1,000  L.  S.  &  H. 
bonds;  two  hundred  $2,500  L.  S.  &  H.  preferred  real 
estate  bonds. 

"  Excuse  my  stupidity,  but  what  are  defaulted 
securities?"  said  Nell,  when  she  had  finished  this 
reading. 

"  Defaulted  securities  are  the  securities  of  com 
panies  that  have  defaulted  in  their  own  interest,  and 
are  in  bankruptcy,  or  in  the  hands  of  a  receiver, "  said 
the  "  Prince.  " 

"  But  if  they  are  bankrupt,  of  what  earthly  good 
are  their  securities?"  said  Ola. 

The  "  Prince  "  looked  just  as  lovingly  at  his  pre 
cious  little  ignoramus  as  he  could  have  done  had  she 
know  all  the  ropes  of  Wall  Street,  and  replied,  "  There 
are  people  who  buy  up  these  securities  when  they 
can  be  bought  for  comparatively  nothing,  and  hold 
them  with  the  expectation  that  they  may  in  the 
future  become  valuable.  But  usually  they  are 
bought  up  by  dealers  who  trade  in  that  kind  of 
securities,  and  sell  them  to  merchants,  bankers  and 
corporations  about  to  become  bankrupt,  or  on  the 
verge  of  failure,  to  be  used  as  assets ;  which  is  all 
very  good  for  the  corporations,  but  rather  rough  on 
the  creditors.  " 

"  Well,  did  you  find  a  buyer  for  these  defaulted 
securities?  "  said  Ola. 

181 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"  Yes,  I  said  to  Edwards,  just  name  a  lump  sum 
you  will  give  me,  if  I  find  a  purchaser.  He  agreed 
upon  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Then  I  went  to  old 
Jake  Israel,  told  him  of  the  securities,  asked  if  he 
could  use  them ;  he  thought  he  could.  Said  I,  '  How 
much  in  a  lump  sum  will  you  give  me? '  '  How  much 
do  you  want?  '  said  he.  '  Two  hundred  dollars, '  said 
I.  '  Can't  do  it,  York, '  said  he,  '  there  are  very  few 
of  them  that  have  any  actual  worth.  I'll  give  you  a 
hundred.'  '  All  right,  Jake,'  said  I,  then  I  turned 
him  over  to  Edwards.  After  they  get  through 
wrangling  about  the  price,  I'll  get  my  commission. " 

"  Is  there  anything  in  the  world  a  Jew  won  t 
buy?"  said  Nell.  She  had  no  love  for  the  Jews,  they 
drove  too  hard  a  bargain  to  suit  her. 

"  A  Jew  is  right  out  on  the  make  every  time,  and 
will  buy  or  sell  almost  anything  except  his  wife  and 
babies,  "  said  Mr.  York. 

"Do  they  draw  the  line  there?"  said  Nell. 

"  I  guess  so ;  from  what  I  know  of  men,  I  have 
about  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Jews  are 
generally  good  to  women,  if  it's  wife  or  sweetheart; 
better,  as  a  rule,  than  other  men.  But  if  they  catch 
a  fellow  short,  they  squeeze  him  and  make  him  let 
go  of  as  much  as  they  can  get  out  of  him." 

"  Are  they  any  worse  than  Jay  Gould  or  Russell 
Sage  or  any  of  the  rest  of  that  impecunious  crowd? '' 
said  Jack. 

"  Not  a  bit.  I  owe  Gould  one  myself,  and  I  think 
I've  got  something  now  that  I  can  even  up  a  part  of 
that  on.  The  C.  C.  &  B.  Railroad,  in  the  State  of 

182 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Arkansas,  has  sixty  miles  completed  and  in  operation, 
and  is  capable  of  being  extended  and  becoming  a 
valuable  property.  The  road  grew  out  of  a  log  road, 
that  is,  a  road  built  for  the  purpose  of  getting  out 
lumber.  It  started  with  wooden  rails,  and  from  that 
went  to  light  iron  rails — thirty-five  pounds — and  a  nar 
row-gauge.  Lately  it  has  been  changed  to  a  standard 
gauge  and  heavier  rails — sixty  pounds.  The  road  has 
paid  for  itself,  as  it  was  built  for  the  lumber  traffic. 

"  I  think  I  have  a  market  for  this  road,  as  it  should 
become  part  of  Gould's  system.  It  is  bonded  for 
fifteen  thousand  dollars  per  mile,  and  is  only  paying 
interest  on  thirteen  thousand  dollars  a  mile.  But  by 
extending  it  to  connect  with  the  Iron  Mountain  as 
one  terminus,  and  the  H.  E.  &  W.  as  another,  it 
would  then  become  a  dividend-paying  property.  I 
can  buy  this  entire  property  in  for  five  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  something  over  eight  thousand 
dollars  a  mile.  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  unload  this 
on  Gould  at  fifteen  thousand  dollars  a  mile,  and  get 
seventy-five  on  the  bonds,  thus  making  a  cool  profit  of 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars.  " 

Ola  laughed.  "  Yes,  Jay  Gould  is  just  the  man  to 
give*  fifteen  thousand  dollars  a  mile  for  a  road  that 
can  be  bought  for  eight  thousand.  " 

The  "  Prince  "  looked  at  his  little  darling,  more 
than  pleased  that  she  should  be  so  quick  to  see  a 
weak  spot  in  a  bargain.  He  smiled  sweetly  upon  her, 
patted  her  cheek  with  his  hand,  and  said,  "  Let  me  ex 
plain,  Baby.  He  can't  get  it  for  eight  thousand  dol 
lars  a  mile,  for  when  I  present  the  enterprise  to  him 

'83 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

the  road  will  be  mine.  But  I  think  I  can  convince  him 
that  he  can  get  it  for  nothing.  I  will  agree  to  deliver 
the  road  to  Gould,  completed.  When  he  takes  posses 
sion  of  it  he  can  '  water  it '  for  enough  to  have  it  cost 
him  nothing. " 

They  all  laughed  merrily  at  the  argument  the 
"  Prince  "  would  use  on  the  "  Little  Wizard.  "  The 
bell  rang,  and  presently  Lucy  announced :  "  Lieu 
tenant  Benners  is  in  the  parlor,  Mrs.  Del." 

"  Ask  the  Lieutenant  to  join  us  here,"  and  turn 
ing  to  the  others,  she  remarked,  "  Did  you  ever  notice 
that  the  walls  of  a  room  become  charged  with  good- 
fellowship,  and  when  the  congenial  companions  ad 
journ  to  another  room,  the  new  walls  have  to  be 
warmed  up  before  the  '  entre-nous  '  sensation  again 
reaches  concert  pitch?  And  sometimes  this  seems 
not  to  come  at  all.  " 

"  We  are  certainly  very  comfortable  here,  "  said 
Jack. 

But  Nell  looked  hateful.  She  "  had  no  use  for 
Lieutenant  Benners. "  Ola's  real  object  in  not  ad 
journing  to  the  parlors,  was  that  she  wanted  Nell  to 
help  entertain  her  guests,  and  she  was  afraid  the  girl, 
seeking  refuge  in  some  flimsy  excuse,  would  refuse  to 
leave  the  dining  room.  Whenever  Ola  saw  Lieutenant 
Benners  in  her  parlors  in  company  with  other  callers 
who  might  chance  to  be  there,  she  was  always  remind 
ed  of  the  little  nursery  jingle  which  says :  "  True 
politeness  is  to  do  and  to  say,  the  kindest  things  in 
the  kindest  way. " 

When    he    entered    the    room    he    brought    his 
184 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  swagger  "  as  Nell  called  it,  with  him,  but  he  could 
not  be  expected  to  come  without  it,  since  it  was  part 
of  him.  Ola  presented  him  to  the  "  Prince.  "  The 
Lieutenant  expressed  his  delight  at  being  admitted  to 
the  family  circle,  and  fell  into  easy  conversation  with 
all  present.  He  listened  with  as  much  courtesy  to 
the  "  Prince's  "  Wall  Street  talk,  as  though  he  had 
the  intention  of  buying  a  whole  system  of  railroads, 
and  had  the  spot  cash  with  which  to  pay  for  them. 

The  "  Prince "  at  once  took  to  the  Lieutenant. 
Reasonably  looked  at,  this  was  no  marvel,  for,  in  those 
congenial  traits  which  are  the  "sine  qua  non"  of  true 
gentlemanliness,  the  two  men  were  much  alike.  "  To 
do  and  to  say,  the  kindest  things  in  the  kindest  way  " 
formed  the  foundation  of  the  character  of  each.  About 
the  only  essential  difference  between  them  was  that 
the  "  Prince "  concentrated  and  anchored  his  affec 
tions,  while  the  Lieutenant,  spreading  his  around, 
drifted  at  the  mercy  of  the  tide  of  events. 

The  "  Prince  "  gave  the  Lieutenant  his  address 
and  urged  him  to  call  upon  him.  Afterwards,  when 
Ola  expressed  her  surprise  at  this  by  saying,  "  I 
thought  you  told  me  you  had  no  time  for  social  calls," 
he  replied,  "  So  I  haven't,  Baby,  but  I  like  him.  He's 
a  gentleman.  I  will  excuse  myself  to  any  mongrel 
I  may  happen  to  be  talking  business  with  any  time  he 
calls.  " 

'Twas  written  in  the  Book  of  Fate.  The 
"  Prince  "  took  Lieutenant  Benners  to  his  heart,  and 
from  first  to  last,  loved  and  trusted  him  like  a  brother. 

185 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

How  a  naval  officer  justified  himself. 

On  account  of  the  pique  he  felt  toward  Mr.  Cam 
eron,  Lieutenant  Benners  had  written  to  Ola  re 
questing  the  privilege  of  justifying  himself  to  her. 
The  way  he  did  justify  himself  might  furnish  an  ex 
cellent  model  for  emulation  to  all  lovers  who  have 
quarreled  and  separated.  This  finesse  was  probably 
due  to  that  wit  and  wisdom  which  guided  the  Lieu 
tenant  through  all  the  tangled  paths  and  confusing 
labyrinths  of  his  many  love  affairs.  It  may,  however, 
have  been  due  to  circumstances.  The  first  time  he 
called,  Cameron  was  there  and  of  course  there  was  no 
chance  that  evening.  The  next  time  the  "  Prince  " 
was  there,  and  at  eleven  o'clock  Ola  laughingly  told 
them  she  intended  to  turn  them  both  out  into  the  cold 
world,  and  herself  into  her  warm  bed,  that  she  might 
arise  early  and  so  take  advantage  of  every  moment  of 
daylight  for  her  work. 

These  two  interviews  naturally  put  them  at  their 
ease  with  one  another.  The  Lieutenant  settled  down 
into  friendly  discourse  and  for  a  long  time  never 
referred,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  any  former  near  and 
dear  relationship.  He  brought  her  boxes  of  candy, 
magazines  and  other  trifles,  but  he  ventured  upon  no 
familiarities,  by  word  or  deed.  When  he  and  the 
"  Prince "  met,  which  was  not  often,  neither  one 
seemed  the  least  in  the  other's  way. 

186 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

If  anything,  the  "  Prince  "  was  rather  glad  than 
otherwise,  to  meet  the  Lieutenant  at  Ola  Del's.  One 
evening  some  remark  was  made  concerning  a  cele 
brated  violinist  who  was  then  giving  concerts  in  New 
York,  and  the  "  Prince  "  said  to  Ola,  "  I  suppose  I 
shall  have  to  send  a  proxy  to  take  you,  for  it  seems 
impossible  to  get  an  evening  when  I  have  not  some 
pressing  affair  to  attend  to.  " 

"  May  I  put  in  an  application  for  the  position,  Mr. 
York?"  said  the  Lieutenant. 

"  Your  application  is  received,  you  are  nominated, 
and  your  nomination  is  confirmed,"  said  the  "  Prince.  ' 

The  two  men  laughed  and  felt  satisfied.  Ola 
was  indifferent. 

If  the  Fates  ever  decreed  that  Lieutenant  Ben- 
ners  was  to  carry  a  cross,  you  may  be  sure  it  was  not 
long  before  he  found  some  modern  Simon  of  Cyrene 
upon  whom,  by  force  or  persuasion,  he  shifted  his 
load.  But  of  late  he  had  been  trudging  along,  or,  as 
Nell  would  say,  "  swaggering  along,"  under  a  slight 
cross  which  goaded  him — about  like  a  tack  in  one's 
shoe.  When  he  dropped  into  the  "  Prince's  "  office, 
he  listened  to  the  accounts  of  York's  anxiety  to  make 
lots  of  money,  that  he  might  one  day  marry  Ola  and 
make  her  happy,  when  she  had  tired  of  her  chase  after 
fame. 

Whenever  Mr.  Cameron  could  catch  the  Lieu 
tenant's  private  ear  on  board  the  "  Grant, "  the 
former  launched  off  into  fulsome  praise  of  Ola,  and 
what  a  happy  man  it  would  make  him  when  he  knew 
she  would  be  watching  the  days  and  counting  the 

187 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

hours  of  his  ship's  return,  by  this  meaning  after  they 
were  married.  Cameron  very  strongly  hinted  that  he 
loved  her  well  enough  to  lay  down  the  honor  of 
serving  the  navy,  and  engage  in  some  business  which 
would  permit  him  to  be  at  home.  He  was  daily  grow 
ing  more  and  more  in  love,  and  it  seemed  a  comfort 
to  him  to  talk  to  the  Lieutenant  about  it. 

"  I  asked  her  to  play  a  duet  with  me  one  evening," 
he  said.  "  I  noticed  I  was  a  little  out  of  time,  but  not 
much.  Ola,  however,  turned  around  on  the  piano  stool 
and  asked  if  she  might  look  at  my  hands. 

"  I  did  not  know  but  that  she  was  a  student  of 
palmistry,  so  I  said,  'Which  one?'  'Both,  if  you 
please, '  she  answered.  She  took  my  hands  and  after 
having  looked  at  them  for  some  time  she  remarked, 
'  They  are  pretty  fair,  for  naval  hands. '  What  do 
you  suppose  she  (meant  by  that?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know, "  said  Lieutenant  Ben- 
ners. 

"  Well,  then  she  bent  up  each  one  of  my  fingers, 
as  if  she  wanted  to  see  if  my  joints  were  in  good 
working  order.  Then  she  said,  '  They  seem  to  be  all 
right.  One  would  scarcely  imagine  they  could  be 
come  such  instruments  of  torture.'  Then  she  laughed — 
how  I  do  love  to  hear  her  soft  laugh  ! — and  said,  'Let's 
read  Racine.  Your  French  is  perfect,  but  your  music 
— well,  let's  enjoy  life. '  But  I  tell  you  I  would  have 
put  every  musician  Germany  ever  gave  birth  to  on 
the  rack,  for  the  sake  of  the  soft  pressure  of  her  cool 
fingers  on  mine,  even  if  she  did  laugh  at  me.  " 

There  was  no  latter  day  Simon  of  Cyrene  upon 
1 88 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

whom  Lieutenant  Benners  could  thrust  this  cross,  so 
he  endured  the  annoyance  like  a  martyr — a  gentleman 
ly,  clean,  well-dressed  officer-in-the-navy  martyr. 

He  said  to  Ola :  "  The  aspirants  for  your  hand 
seem  to  be  about  as  numerous  as  those  for  Penelope's." 

"  Yes,  "  she  replied,  "  the  grass-widow  of  Ulysses 
spun  yarn  enough  to  fill  all  Ithica  with  moths,  while 
she  kept  her  suitors  at  bay.  I  am  chasing  after  Fame 
and  filling  my  rooms  with  trash  and  the  odor  of 
pigments,  while  mine  sob  and  sigh.  " 

"  Have  they  got,  numerically,  beyond  keeping 
track  of?"  said  theN  Lieutenant. 

"  Oh,  no ;  not  quite  as  bad  as  that,"  said  Ola. 

"  You  treat  everybody  so  nearly  alike,  I  think  a 
man  would  find  it  pretty  difficult  to  decide  if  he  were 
the  preferred  one  or  not.  Can  you  tell  which  one 
has  the  best  chance?" 

If  Ola  had  not  known  him  to  be  such  a  dissembler 
she  would  have  thought  he  was  a  bit  jealous,  and  was 
fishing  for  her  confession  that  he  was  the  only  one  in 
her  heart. 

If  this  were  his  motive,  he  was  disappointed,  for 
she  answered  lightly,  "  Oh,  the  situation  is  quite  a 
comfortable  one,  all  the  way  around.  When  a  man 
loves  a  woman  and  knows  other  men  love  her,  he  is 
well  content.  His  own  vanity  will  not  permit  him  to 
suspect  she  could  prefer  another  to  him,  and  the  very 
fact  that  she  is  sought  after  by  others'  only  increases 
his  love  for  her  as  well  as  his  own  self-satisfaction. 
As  to  myself,  each  one  of  my  admirers  is  valuable  to 
me  for  that  particular  thing  for  which  he  is  useful.  " 

189 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"  That  seems  rather  a  cold-blooded  way  to  put 
it,"  said  the  Lieutenant.  Don't  you  think  so?" 

"  Cold-blood  is  a  great  contributor  to  happiness. '' 

"  The  Lieutenant  shook  his  head  and  looked  at 
her  reprovingly;  but,  nothing  daunted,  she  went  on: 
"  The  '  Pirate  '  is  serviceable  to  me  as  a  '  middle-man,  ' 
he  saves  my  bartering,  which  I  detest;  that's  the  way 
he's  useful.  His  desire  to  marry  me  is  amusing  and 
instructive,  inasmuch  as  it  shows  that  man's  conceit 
is  limitless.  Mr.  York  is  my  preferred,  in  fact  my 
only  creditor.  " 

"  Fortunate  man !  "  said  the  Lieutenant. 

"Why  so?"  said  Ola. 

"  Because  your  gratitude  will  one  day  cause  you 
to  give  yourself  to  him,  "  said  the  Lieutenant. 

"  If  I  understand  you,  you  are  entirely  mistaken. 
I  am  not  grateful  to  Mr.  York  for  his  money,  I  am 
for  the  purity  of  his  love.  That  I  owe  him  several 
thousand  dollars,  could  not  induce  me  to  endure  his 
company  for  five  minutes.  Before  I  took  up  all  my 
small  debts  and  made  one  large  one,  my  creditors  were 
about  as  numerous  and  troublesome  as  were  once 
Lord  Byron's;  but  my  debts  opened  no  door  for 
the  tradespeople  to  establish  a  social  relation  with  me. 
Oh,  no!  My  maid  told  them  to  call  again  next  week, 
and  so  on  and  on,  '  ad  infmitum.'  The  executioner, 
if  you  please,  but  no  hobnobbing  with  the  butcher ! " 

The  Lieutenant  laughed.  He  was,  nevertheless, 
pleased.  Thus  a  friendly  relationship  was  once  more 
established  between  them,  and  Ola  was  more  com 
fortable  in  his  presence  than  she  had  ever  been.  Dur- 

190 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

ing  this  time  the  Lieutenant  gained  a  more  enduring 
place  in  her  affections  than  he  had  ever  had.  There 
was  so  much  that  is  lovable  about  him. 

A  poor,  consumptive  carpenter  was  at  the  house 
one  day,  doing  some  trifling  work.  His  cough  at 
tracted  the  pitying  notice  of  the  Lieutenant,  who 
asked  Ola  a  few  questions  about  the  man.  Having 
learned  that  the  mechanic  had  a  large  family,  was 
sober  and  industrious  and  that  his  wife  helped,  as 
she  could,  in  the  support  of  the  family,  the  Lieutenant 
told  Ola  to  give  the  man  the  two  boxes  of  candy  he 
had  brought.  She  laughingly  said,  "  How  generous 
you  are  with  what  does  not  belong  to  you. " 

"  No,  dear,  of  course  expensive  candy  is  no  treat 
to  you,  but  it  will  be  to  that  poor  man's  children. " 

She  wrapped  the  candy  up  and  gave  it  to  the  car 
penter;  the  Lieutenant  gave  him  a  couple  of  dollars 
and  a  cigar. 

At  another  time  when  they  were  going  out  to 
gether  he  noticed  the  colored  janitor,  in  a  thin,  ragged 
coat,  all  doubled  up  with  cold.  Lieutenant  Benners' 
beautiful  eyes  never  looked  upon  suffering  that  his 
heart  did  not  feel  sympathy,  and  he  now  spoke  pity 
ingly  of  the  man  to  Ola. 

"  Yes,  "  said  she,  "  to  me,  one  of  the  chiefest  in 
ducements  to  marry,  would  be  that  I  might  keep  that 
poor  old  man's  bones  covered  from  the  winter  winds, 
by  giving  him  my  husband's  cast-off  clothing. " 

"  Would  you,  dear, — would  you  let  me  send  the 
poor  fellow  a  package  in  your  care  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  "  she  said. 
191 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

The  janitor  did  not  shiver  any  more  that  winter, 
for  the  Lieutenant  sent  him  an  immense  bundle,  in 
which  was  almost  everything  the  poor  fellow  could 
wish.  How  many  of  Lieutenant  Benners'  infidelities 
towards  women  who  loved  him,  the  Recording  Angel 
washed  out  with  the  tears  of  gratitude  that  poor  old 
negro  shed,  could  not  be  measured  by  any  possible 
human  knowledge.  The  tears  came  to  Ola's  eyes, 
too,  as  she  watched  the  child-like  delight  shown  by 
the  old  man ;  and  of  Lieutenant  Benners,  she  thought, 
"  He  lacks  but  one  thing  to  be  perfect.  If  to  his 
many  virtues  he  could  add  fidelity  and  truth,  he  would 
be  the  peer  of  all  mankind.  " 

Just  when  these  deeds  of  the  Lieutenant  had 
warmed  her  heart  towards  him,  and  his  own  attitude 
of  mere  friendliness  to  her  had  thrown  her  off  her 
guard,  he  said  to  her  one  night,  "  We  leave  to-morrow, 
dear,  to  be  gone  for  a  week  or  ten  days.  You  will  be 
surrounded  by  those  who  love  you.  Can  you,  will 
you,  think  once  in  a  while  of  me?" 

He  rested  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  and  looked 
into  her  eyes.  If  her  life  had  depended  upon  her  lips 
speaking  a  word,  the  Angel  of  Death  would  have 
had  to  make  a  record  in  his  books.  The  Lieutenant 
knew  the  barrier  of  her  will  was  once  again  sur 
mounted. 

"  Oh,  it  is  so  nice  to  be  with  you, "  he  said. 

He  put  her  hand  on  his  cheek,  that  she 
might  feel  how  it  burned  and  then  softly  and  slowly 
drew  it  along  to  his  lips.  "  You  dear,  sweet  girl ! 
How  happy  must  the  man  be  who  has  your  love.  " 

192 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Then  he  talked  on  softly  to  her  for  half  an  hour  or 
more — always  of  the  happiness  of  being  loved.  But 
no  word  came  from  her  lips.  She  did  not  even  know 
what  he  said.  Like  a  little  butterfly  adrift  in  a  sunny 
zephyr,  her  happiness  was  complete.  Progress? 
Fame?  Art?  All  became  again  meaningless  nothings. 
Self-respect?  She  had  no  identity,  no  being,  apart 

from  him. 

****** 

Once  more  the  Lieutenant  saw  a  sunrise.  This 
time  the  skies  were  a  dull  cold  grey  and  a  keen  winter 
wind  blew  into  his  face  but,  what  was  this  to  him? 
Nothing. 


193 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

The   collateral    upon   which    the    "  Prince "    got   his 
sweets  on  credit. 

The  next  morning  Nell  waited  so  long  for  Ola 
to  come  to  breakfast  that  she  finally  sent  Lucy  to 
see  what  the  trouble  was. 

"  Tell  Miss  Thorne  not  to  wait  for  me,  I  do  not 
feel  well  and  cannot  get  up  this  morning.  " 

"  Just  as  I  thought,  "  said  Nell  to  herself  when 
Lucy  brought  the  message.  Then  she  performed  such 
a  wholesale  slaughter  of  naval  officers,  beginning 
with  Lieutenant  Benners,  as  might  have  crimsoned  the 
whole  Atlantic  ocean  with  fresh  blood.  She  did  not 
dare  trust  herself  to  see  Ola,  through  fear  of  being 
tempted  to  say  something  "nasty;"  but  she  sent 
word  by  Lucy  that  if  she  could  do  anything  to  relieve 
Ola  she  would  gladly  do  it. 

So  she  would,  poor  little  thing,  even  to  butcher 
ing  Lieutenant  Benners.  There  was  nothing  to  be 
done.  After  luncheon  Ola  tried  to  work,  but  she 
could  not.  Nothing  that  she  did  suited  her.  Most 
of  the  afternoon  she  paced  restlessly  up  and  down  her 
rooms,  working  for  a  few  moments  now  and  then, 
but  invariably  leaving  off  with  disgust.  The  evening 
found  her  suffering  from  exhaustion,  but  with  nothing 
accomplished,  and  she  was  melancholy  and  dis 
couraged.  The  "  Prince  "  and  Ned  St.  Claire  called, 
and  Nell  was  in  the  parlor. 

194 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  How  are  you  getting  along,  darling?  "  said  the 
"  Prince,  "  as  he  glanced  towards  her  work. 

"Very  miserably,  indeed.  I  am  afraid  we  shall 
both  of  us  have  to  live  a  long  time  and  you  will  have 
to  sell  a  good  many  railroads,  before  I  shall  have 
done  anything  worth  more  than  the  price  of  old 
rags,  "  said  Ola. 

"  That's  all  right.  I'll  sell  the  railroads,  and  you 
can  and  will  do  something  fine.  We'll  get  there, 
won't  we?"  said  the  "Prince,"  addressing  Ned  St. 
Claire. 

"  We'll  do  some  dead  level  trying,  any  way, "  said 
Ned. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  easier  to  sell  a  railroad  than  it 
is  to  win  Fame,  or  to  deserve  it,  either, "  said  Ola, 
sadly. 

"  You  deserve  it,  Baby,  and  you  shall  have  it, ' 
said  the  "  Prince,  "  as  he  sat  down  on  the  couch  be 
side  her  and  took  her  hand  in  his. 

"  Have  a  little  consideration  for  my  feelings,  Mr. 
York,  if  you  please, "  said  Ned,  laughing,  as  he  shot 
a  glance  at  the  "  Prince's  "  hands  in  their  attempt  to 
caress  Ola. 

"  That's  a  fact,  so  I  should, "  said  the  "  Prince, " 
pleasantly,  and  he  patted  his  darling's  cheeks  and 
walked  away  from  the  couch  upon  the  back  of  which 
Ola  leaned  her  head  in  a  listless,  uninterested  way. 

Nell  thought,  "  That  beast  of  a  Lieutenant !  I 
wish  he  would  fall  overboard  and  get  drowned !  " 

Ned  thought,  "  I  suppose  her  husband  has  been, 
195 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

annoying  her  again.  It's  a  pity  the  Devil  doesn't 
take  him.  " 

The  "  Prince  "  thought,  "  I  must  watch  my  dar 
ling,  and  not  let  her  work  so  hard.  I  am  willing  to 
gratify  her  in  all  her  little  whims,  but  I  don't  intend 
to  let  her  kill  herself." 

And  Ola  thought,  "Nell,  dear  little  Nell!  Not 
even  the  knowledge  of  my  weakness  can  drive  you 
away  from  me.  Ned,  you  more  than  brother!  You 
would  tramp  from  the  Battery  to  Harlem  for  me  at 
any  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  and  never  think  you 
merited  even  thanks.  And  my  "  Prince, "  who  says  to 
me  when  I  speak  of  being  afraid  that  I  shall  lose  his 
money,  '  Don't  mind  the  money,  Baby ;  there  is  plenty 
of  that  in  Wall  Street  and  it'll  be  a  cold  day  when  I 
don't  get  my  share ! '  Was  ever  a  woman  who  was  so 
little  worthy  of  it,  so  much  beloved?" 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Ola?  "  said  St.  Claire. 

"  I  was  thinking,  Ned,  that  no  woman  was  ever 
blessed  with  such  loyal,  unselfish,  generous  friends 
as  I  have  here  represented  in  Nell  and  yourself  and 
Mr.  York.  " 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Ola !  If  you  are  going  to  dis 
tribute  taffy,  I  want  to  draw  out,  "  said  Nell. 

"  Yes,  "  said  Ned,  laughing.  "  When  Jay  Gould 
wrecked  the  Erie,  those  Englishmen  went  after  him  to 
make  him  give  up  fifteen  million  dollars'  worth  of 
the  bonds.  Gould  said,  '  Gentlemen,  rather  than  have 
any  trouble  with  you,  here  are  nine  millions  for  you, 
I  have  need  of  the  other  little  six  millions  for  pocket 

196 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

change. '    I'm  just  out  of  such  like  small  change,  Ola, 
so  count  me  out,  too,  please.  " 

"  I'll  take  my  sweets  on  credit,  if  I  may, "  said 
the  "  Prince.  "  "  I  shall  be  in  small  change  later  on. 
One  of  those  great  men  from  out  West,  a  judge  or 
colonel  or  general,  came  to  me  to-day  with  a  railroad 
on  paper.  I  listened  to  him,  got  his  scheme  all  down 
fine,  sifted  the  dust  all  out  of  it,  and  found  he  had  a 
good  thing.  I  asked  him  if  he  had  any  subsidies? 
'  No. '  I  said  to  him,  '  Well,  my  dear  sir,  your  enter 
prise  is  good,  the  road  ought  to  be  built,  and  when  it 
is  built  and  properly  equipped  and  in  good  running 
order,  it  ought  to  pay.  I  can  get  the  capital  to  build 
and  equip  the  road ;  and  if  your  ideas  are  not  way  up 
out  of  sight  and  reason,  we  can  do  some  business.  I 
will  build  and  equip  this  road  and  give  you  and  your 
associates  forty-five  per  cent,  of  the  stock. ' 

"  But  that  would  never  do  for  him.  '  Why, '  said 
I,  'what  do  you  expect  to  get  your  money  on? 
You've  got  nothing.  You've  done  four  or  five  hun 
dred  dollars  worth  of  surveying  and  struck  off  a  little 
literature ;  that's  all.  Do  you  think  I  am  going  to 
build  the  road  and  give  it  to  you?  Ah,  no;  you  can't 
get  money  in  Wall  Street  unless  you've  got  something 
to  get  it  on.  You  must  come  down  to  hard  pan.  You 
people  out  West  think  that  when  you  strike  New 
York,  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  go  along  Wall  Street 
with  a  wheelbarrow  and  shovel  and  scoop  up  the  gold. 
But  that's  a  little  mistake,  my  friend.'  He  took  his 
railroad  and  walked  out.  " 

197 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL   STREET 

Ned  laughed.  "  Is  that  the  enterprise  you  are 
going  to  get  your  small  change  from  ?  " 

"Yes,"   said  the   "Prince." 

"  But  I  thought  you  told  us  the  man  walked 
away, "  said  Nell. 

"  Just  so ;  he'll  go  off  and  hawk  it  around  the 
Street  for  two  or  three  weeks,  and  finally,  when  he 
has  exhausted  himself,  he  will  come  back  and  say: 
'  Mr.  York,  I  have  reflected  upon  what  you  said,  and 
I  have  consulted  my  associates,  and  we  have  decided 
to  accept  your  offer. '  Then  I'll  say,  '  Do  you  remem 
ber  what  my  offer  was?'  and  he'll  tell  me.  Then  I'll 
say,  '  Well,  that  was  my  offer  at  that  time,  and  you 
should  have  taken  it  then.  It  is  worth  a  good  deal 
more  now  that  you've  hawked  it  all  over  the  Street 
and  every  promoter  in  New  York  has  refused  it.  I 
can't  give  you  more  than  half  of  what  I  offered  you 
when  the  scheme  was  fresh, '  and  he'll  take  it. 

"  That's  the  way  we  build  railroads  with  those 
judges  and  colonels  and  generals  from  out  West. 
They  are  great  men  where  they  come  from,  but  they 
don't  knock  Wall  Street  silly  when  they  get  here,  not 
by  a  good  deal.  Do  they,  Baby  ?  "  And  the  "  Prince  " 
walked  over  to  Ola,  pushed  the  soft  curls  off  her  tem 
ples  and  patted  her  cheek. 

She  looked  up  smilingly  at  him  and  said,  "  I 
think  I  shall  have  to  give  you  credit  for  a  sweet  word 
or  two,  upon  the  reasonable  supposition  that  your 
great  man  with  his  paper  railroad  may  return,"  but 
all  the  time  she  was  thinking,  "  How  awful,  how 
shameful  a  thing  it  is  to  know  that  one  should  receive 

198 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

a  blow,  and  that  instead,  every  possible  kindness  is 
being  shown  one." 

Near  eleven  the  "  Prince  "  said  to  Ned  St.  Claire, 
"  Let's  skip  and  let  this  tired  little  one  get  a  good 
rest;  for  I  suppose  she  will  be  up  early  and  at  her 
brush. " 

"  I'm  with  you, "  said  Ned. 

The  two  men  left,  and  after  a  few  moments  Nell 
went  to  her  part  of  the  house ;  but  Ola  had  company 
until  late  in  the  night — the  company  of  her  sad  re 
flections.  She  resolved  to  ask  Lieutenant  Benners  to 
stay  away  from  her  and  permit  her  to  devote  herself 
to  her  work,  and  live  worthy  of  her  friends. 

When  the  "  Grant "  returned  to  New  York,  the 
Lieutenant  hastened  to  call  upon  Ola.  He  excused 
himself  for  coming  in  the  afternoon,  which  he  knew 
was  against  her  wishes,  by  saying  he  was  so  anxious 
to  see  her,  he  could  not  wait  until  evening.  Truth 
to  tell,  the  Lieutenant  was  exceedingly  fond  of  those 
afternoon  visits  to  Ola.  It  was  generally  understood 
among  her  friends  that  the  artist  would  not  see 
visitors  during  the  hours  of  daylight,  as  she  did  not 
wish  to  be  disturbed  in  her  work  or  studies.  Thus 
the  Lieutenant  was  almost  sure  to  find  her  alone ; 
and  to  be  alone  with  Ola  Del  was  just  what  filled  full 
the  measure  of  his  happiness. 

That  afternoon  she  was  putting  the  finishing 
touches  on  a  water-color  piece — a  head  and  bust  of 
Nell  and  "  Bronze  "  taken  together.  After  looking 
for  some  time  at  this  work  the  Lieutenant  said, 
"  That's  very  good,  dear.  " 

199 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  is  extremely  bad,  "  said  Ola. 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  the  Lieutenant. 

"  Oh,  there  are  a  thousand  things  the  mat 
ter.  There  should  be  a  nymph-like  expression  of  mis 
chief  in  Nell's  eyes,  which  I  have  not  caught  at  all. 
'  Bronze's '  hair  is  dreadful ;  and  her  mouth  looks  as 
if  she  were  saying  '  umph-humph.'  " 

The  Lieutenant  laughed  like  a  merry  boy  at  this 
last  remark,  and  said,  "  Oh,  you  dear  girl !  I  shouldn't 
want  you  for  a  critic.  " 

"  Perhaps  I  would  be  more  charitable  to  you 
than  I  am  to  myself.  No,  there  is  but  one  good 
thing  about  this,  and  that  is  '  Bronze's  '  dress,  "  said 
Ola. 

"  It's  a  very  pretty  thing  and,  if  I  had  a  home, 
I  would  like  to  have  it,  "  said  the  Lieutenant. 

Perhaps  this  remark,  of  all  those  which  an  evil 
genius  could  have  suggested  to  the  Lieutenant,  was 
the  one  most  calculated  to  give  Ola  the  courage  to 
ask  him  to  leave  her.  She  said: 

"  I  will  give  it  to  you.  '  Bronze  '  will  let  you  hang 
it  on  her  walls  until  you  are  married;  and  if  your 
wife  will  grant  you  a  like  privilege,  all  will  be  as  you 
wish  it.  I  am  sure  I  should  not  object  to  my  hus 
band's  hanging  up  a  whole  picture  gallery  of  his  old 
sweethearts  in  our  house ;  and  the  more  beautiful  they 
were,  the  better  I  should  be  pleased.  It  would  be  such 
a  compliment  to  my  own  lack  of  beauty,  you  see.  " 

There  was  nothing  in  the  world  that  Lieutenant 
Benners  disliked  so  much  as  remarks  bordering  on 
unpleasant  things.  He  always  said  that  whenever  he 

200 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

felt  like  saying  anything  unpleasant,  he  kept  still,  and 
after  awhile  he  got  over  the  desire.  So  now  he  tried 
to  ignore  Ola's  insinuation  and  to  speak  of  something 
else. 

But  it  was  of  no  use ;  he  had  tapped  the  bitter  font 
within  her,  and  the  overflow  must  come.  She  walked 
away  from  him,  and  said :  "  I  did  not  want  you  to 
come  back  into  my  life,  did  not  intend  that  you  ever 
should.  I  have  once  more  demonstrated  my  own 
weakness.  There  is  safety,  honor,  fame,  for  me  in 
one  way.  You  know  Mr.  York  loves  me;  the  dearest 
wish  of  his  heart  is  to  make  me  his  wife.  You  know 
Mr.  Cameron  has  the  same  feeling  and  desire.  Be 
noble;  go  away;  and  never  come  back  again.  Go  to 
'  Bronze, '  go  to  the  Queen  of  England,  go  to  a  rag 
picker,  if  you  want  to,  but  leave  me  alone. " 

Poor  Ola !  She  suggested  one  thing  too  many  to 
the  Lieutenant.  Had  she  left  Mr.  Cameron's  name 
out,  it  is  possible  she  would  have  been  forgiven  the 
rag-picker  slur,  and  the  Lieutenant  would  have  called 
his  better  nature  to  her  service — would  have  left 
her  to  her  work  and  her  ambitions.  But  Cameron? 
Oh,  no !  That  was  asking  too  much.  He,  Lieutenant 
Benners,  was  the  master  of  the  little  Ola  Del 
craft,  and  he  was  not  going  to  resign  in  Cameron's 
favor.  He  therefore  passed  his  arm  around  his 
sweetheart's  waist,  and  led  her  to  the  couch.  There 
he  sat  beside  her  and  began  to  talk  to  her. 

"  It  is  hard  for  me  to  understand  you,  dear.  I 
never  have  done  so.  I  think  I  shall,  after  ?.  while.  At 
least  I  am  going  to  try.  As  to  Miss  Hilton,  you  know 

201 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

we  decided,  long  ago,  not  to  speak  of  her  again.  She  is 
nothing  to  me.  I  do  not  see  her,  have  not  seen  her 
since  she  was  here,  and  have  no  thought  of  doing  so. 
So  put  her  out  of  the  question.  I  could  not  have  given 
you  the  money  to  pursue  your  studies,  because  I  did 
not  have  it.  But  it  could  not  give  any  man  greater 
happiness  to  do  so,  than  it  would  have  given  me.  If 
you  will  honestly  tell  me  you  love  Mr.  York,  and  wish 
and  intend  to  marry  him,  or  that  you  love  Mr.  Cam 
eron — " 

Here  the  Lieutenant  paused  a  moment,  pressed 
Ola's  cool  hand  to  his  hot  cheek  and  lips,  looked  at 
her  intently — hungrily,  then  leaned  his  head  down 
upon  her  shoulder  and  continued,  "  Of  course,  if  you 
love  Mr.  Cameron,  I  must — let — him  have  you;  for, 
you  dear  girl,  I  wish  you  to  be  happy.  But  it  is 
hard;  very  hard.  Now,  tell  me,  do  you  love  him? 
Do  you  love  any  one  but  me  ?  " 

The  answer  he  received  was  not  one  of  words, 
but  it  was  the  only  one  Ola  had  ever  been  able  to  give 
him,  and  he  was  happy. 

Thus  as  the  days  and  months  rolled  by,  the 
woman  ever  struggled  with  the  fierce  elements  that 
swept  through  her  soul.  She  longed  to  be  good  and 
pure,  that  she  might  be  worthy  of  the  "  Prince ; "  and 
she  was  crushed  with  the  humiliating  knowledge  that 
she  could  not.  She  must  work  on,  she  said,  and  try 
to  pay  the  debt  of  money  she  owed  Mr.  York;  she 
knew  his  pure  love  could  not  be  paid  for.  And  she 
must  live  along  until  she  died. 

She  worked,  oh,  so  industriously,  and  she  im- 
202 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

proved.  All  those  around  her  loved  her.  Mr.  Cam 
eron  was  waiting  to  get  his  courage  up  to  ask  her  to 
accept  the  great  honor  of  being  the  wife  of  an  officer 
in  the  navy.  He  knew  he  would  have  to  wait;  there 
was  no  help  for  it.  Only  after  she  should  have  put 
her  works  upon  exhibition,  tested  their  merit  by  the 
verdict  of  the  art  critics  and  by  the  price  they  would 
bring  at  auction,  would  she  have  any  time  to  think  of 
love.  So  Mr.  Cameron  waited;  what  else  could  he  do? 
So  the  "  Prince"  waited;  what  else  could  he  do?  So 
Lieutenant  Benners  reveled  in  possession;  what  else 
could  he  do? 

At  his  visits,  Ola's  cheeks  were  flushed;  there 
was  an  almost  insane  fire  in  her  eyes.  After  he  was 
gone,  she  was  a  wreck ;  gloomy,  misanthropic.  She 
would  not  have  despised  herself  half  as  much,  had 
she  possessed  the  courage  to  say  to  all  her  friends: 
"  Think  what  you  will  of  me,  it  cannot  be  bad  enough. 
I  have  deceived  and  wronged  you  all.  I  am  his." 

Goaded  by  her  own  sense  of  justice  she  would 
have  done  this,  had  not  that  same  sense  of  justice  for 
bidden  it.  If  by  some  necromancy  she  could  have  so 
numbed  all  sensation  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  loved 
her,  as  to  be  sure  they  wou1d  not,  could  not  suffer, 
then  she  would  have  proclaimed  the  truth.  It  was  not 
through  fear  of  shame  and  disgrace  to  herself,  but  be 
cause  she  must  save  them  pain,  that  she  continued  to 
keep  her  guilty  secret.  Ever  fearful  lest  she  should 
wound  those  unsuspecting  ones  who  loved  her,  there 
was  no  man  of  her  acquaintance  with  whom  she  was 

203 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

so  ceremonious  and  formal,  in  the  presence  of  others, 
as  with  Lieutenant  Benners. 

And  she  lived  on,  and  worked  on,  and  sent  Will 
Fallon  his  hush  money,  and  sold  her  "  daubs  "  as  she 
called  them,  through  the  "  Pirate.  "  And  every  time 
she  sent  money  to  Will  Fallon,  she  said  to  herself, 
"  I  am  a  living  lie.  "  At  every  token  of  the  "  Prince's  " 
worship  (for  his  love  was  nothing  short  of  idol 
atry)  she  shuddered,  and  said,  "  I  am  a  living  lie.  " 
When  Mr.  Cameron  told  her  how  proud  he  was  to 
reckon  her  among  his  friends,  among  his  most  honored 
and  beloved,  she  quivered,  as  at  the  keen  touch  of  a 
fire-brand,  and  said,  "  I  am  a  living  lie.  " 

If  there  were  but  a  law  which  would  compel  her, 
like  the  lepers  of  old,  to  cover  her  face  at  the  approach 
of  one  morally  clean,  and  shout  aloud,  "  Unclean ! 
unclean !  "  how  gladly  she  would  have  done  it.  But, 
alas !  they  who  loved  her  would  suffer  by  any  revela 
tion  more  than  she,  so  she  was  silent. 


204 


CHAPTER     XIX. 

"  She  was  forced  to  set  her  own  feelings  down  as  a 
mystery,  inexplicable  even  to  herself." 

The  woman's  soul  was  dominated  by  two  mighty, 
conflicting  forces.  The  darkest  care  that  ever  hung 
over  her,  vanished  at  Lieutenant  Benners'  magic 
touch.  She  knew  he  did  not  love  her;  she  knew  that 
when  he  was  away  from  her  he  was  not  true  to  her; 
she  knew  that  in  the  make-up  of  his  life  she  was  but 
one  little  haven,  in  one  little  port,  of  which  there  were 
many  more;  and  that  she  was  not,  in  the  least,  of 
greater  importance  than  any  of  the  others.  He  told 
her  he  thought  of  her  when  he  was  away.  Yes,  so  he 
did.  As  his  ship  was  entering  the  harbor  of  New 
York,  he  truly  thought  with  tenderness  of  her  artistic 
little  home,  in  which  everything  spoke  of  its  mis 
tress  ;  and  his  beautiful  eyes  were  ablaze  with  the  de 
lights  awaiting  him;  his  lips  grew  warm  and  red  in 
spite  of  the  wind. 

But  it  was  the  physical  woman  he  thought  of. 
He  thought  that  she  would  be  prettily  dressed, 
that  she  would  look  at  him  almost  shyly  when  she 
»aw  him  and  yet  say  with  pretended  nonchalance,  "  I 
am  glad  to  see  you.  How  kind  of  you  to  remember 
the  candy ;  I  was  so  hungry  for  it.  Let's  sit  down  and 
eat  it.  When  did  you  get  into  port?"  He  thought 
how  she  would  nervously  cut  the  string  and  open 

205 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

the  box,  and  tumble  the  bonbons  around  with 
the  little  tongs,  and  break  the  pieces  in  two,  giving 
him  half,  and  pretend  all  the  time  that  he  would  not 
contribute  much  to  her  happiness,  if  it  were  not  for 
his  generosity  in  the  matter  of  candy.  And  this  would 
please  him  mightily,  for  he  would  know  she  was  not 
speaking  the  truth ;  that  there  could  not  be  a  cir 
cumstance  or  condition  in  which  she  would  not  be 
glad  to  see  him. 

Then  he  would  take  the  box  out  of  her  hand,  and, 
drawing  her  up  close  to  him  he  would  say,  "  Yoa 
dear  girl,  I  can't  keep  my  hands  off  you,  so  it's  no 
use -to  try. " 

And  she  would  look  at  him  from  out  the  depths 
of  her  grey-black  eyes,  and  finally  she  would  put  her 
hand  on  his,  and  with  the  tenderest,  most  loving  pres 
sure,  she  would  say,  "  Have  you  been  true  to  me 
since  we  were  separated?" 

Then  he  would  look  down  upon  the  carpet,  and 
call  into  his  features  a  holy,  single-souled  expression, 
and  modulate  his  voice — he  had  a  most  marvelous 
command  of  his  expression  and  voice — and  freight  his 
tones  so  full  of  love  and  conviction,  that  he  would 
have  electrified  an  ice  statute  of  Minerva,  and,  slow 
ly  and  softly  say,  "  Yes,  dear,  I  have,  and  that  is  as 
true  as  the  truth  ever  was.  " 

And  he  would  gently  lay  his  hand  down  upon  her 
arm  around  his  neck ;  and  there  he  would  remain  quiet, 
until,  by  some  intuition  which  was  a  gift  peculiar  to 
him,  he  knew  he  had  banished  reason  from  her,  that 
she  wanted  but  one  thing — to  be  happy  with  him — 

206 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

and  that  she  would  eagerly  grasp  and  hold  that  hap 
piness,  cost  what  it  might.  Upon  every  return  from 
his  cruises,  she  invariably  asked  him  if  he  had  been 
true  to  her,  and  he  just  as  monotonously  told  her  the 
same  falsehood. 

These  were  the  thoughts  he  had  of  her  when 
they  had  been  separated,  and  his  ship  was  bringing  him 
nearer  and  nearer  to  her.  In  his  fancy  he  could  see 
the  light  streaming  from  the  upper  half  of  those  win 
dows,  as  he  passed  the  corner,  and  it  filled  him  with 
joy  to  know  it  was  his  own  little  beacon,  burning 
for  him  and  for  him  alone.  He  knew  when  it  stormed 
she  leaned  her  face  against  that  cold  window-pane, 
and  looked  with  an  aching  heart  upon  the  angry  ele 
ments,  and,  foolish  as  only  a  woman  can  be,  she  kept 
the  light  burning  all  night.  He  had  found  out  about 
this  all-night  burning  one  stormy  night  when  he 
was  making  his  way  back  to  his  ship,  in  company 
with  some  of  his  brother-officers,  from  a  visit  to  a 
place  not  mentioned  in  respectable  society.  It  was 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  blowing  and  storming 
like  all  the  furies;  he  saw  the  beacon  light  and  a 
slight  feeling  of  jealousy  taking  possession  of  him,  he 
slipped  away  from  his  companions,  went  back  and 
rang  the  bell. 

Then  she  had  opened  the  window,  and,  looking 
out,  said,  "  Who  is  there?  " 

"  It  is  I,  dear.    Open ;  it  is  a  dreadful  night.  " 

The  wind  had  dashed  the  rain  into  her  face  and 
drenched  her  nightdress;  but,  without  other  thought 
than  to  give  her  lover  shelter  from  the  wild  storm, 

207 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

she  flew  to  open  the  door.  Her  long  black  hair  fell 
around  her  and  she  was  wet  and  cold,  but  she  drew 
him  to  the  heat  and  began  to  relieve  him  of  his  wet 
overcoat.  He  shook  himself  a  little,  sauntered  around 
the  room,  and  then  he  said,  "  Are  you  alone?  " 

"Alone?  Yes.  For  Heaven's  sake,  whom  would 
you  expect  to  be  here  at  this  hour  of  the  night?  " 

With  a  feeling  of  shame,  he  answered,  "  I  saw  a 
bright  light,  and  I  feared  you  were  sick.  To  ease 
my  mind  about  you,  I  slipped  away  from  the  others. 
But  I  see  I  was  mistaken.  You  were  asleep,  were 
you  not?  Why,  then,  was  the  gas  burning  so 
brightly?" 

She  was  afraid  he  would  laugh  at  her,  but  she 
told  him  she  always  kept  it  burning,  when  she  thought 
him  at  sea,  if  the  weather  were  wild.  He  did  not 
laugh,  he  was  pleased.  In  an  instant  he  caught  her 
idea — her  desire  to  help  him.  His  beautiful  eyes  lit 
up  and  he  drew  her  shivering  body  close  to  him  and 
tenderly  murmured,  "  You  dear  girl !  " 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  he  noticed  her  hair  and 
her  garments  were  dripping  wet.  Reproaching  him 
self  for  his  selfishness,  with  his  own  hands  he  put 
some  dry  clothing  on  her  and  gently  wiped  her  wet 
hair  with  a  towel. 

"  How  cold  your  feet  are,  dear !  Lie  down  and 
let  me  rub  them  until  they  get  warm.  " 

And  he  caressed  her  and  fondled  her  and  talked 
to  her,  in  a  way  upon  which  he  could  not  have  im 
proved,  had  he  really  loved  her.  And  she  again  was 
happy  with  that  unreasoning  happiness  which  she 

208 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

always  felt  when  with  Adrian  Benners.  In  this  union 
she  knew  the  happiness  that  is  content  with  the  earth ; 
that  wishes  to  dwell  here  forever  and  never  grow  old ; 
that  desires  to  awaken  passion,  and  most  of  all,  to  re 
spond  to  that  which  it  has  called  into  life.  With  Lieu 
tenant  Benners  as  her  companion,  wealth,  luxury,  a 
soft,  voluptuous  life — these  seemed  to  her  the  perfec 
tion  of  perfections  which  existence  could  hold. 

But  with  the  "  Prince "  no  snow  queen  could 
have  been  more  passionless.  Every  noble  aspira 
tion  the  woman  had  ever  felt  was  then  called  forth. 
She  never  thought  of  Adrian  Benners  in  connection 
with  business  or  her  ambitions;  she  never  thought  of 
the  "  Prince  "  in  any  other  way.  The  most  insigni 
ficant  gift  from  the  Lieutenant  made  her  feel  like  a. 
prostitute.  About  the  thousands  of  dollars  bestowed 
by  the  "  Prince, "  she  felt  perfectly  comfortable ;  this 
was  business,  and  she  had  so  insisted  from  the  first.  To 
the  one  man  she  was  the  embodiment  of  purity,  pre 
cision,  business-rectitude,  punctiliousness;  to  the 
other,  a  creature  of  convenience.  Rather  a  nice  and 
dainty  little  necessity,  it  was  admitted  by  the  Lieu 
tenant;  but,  nevertheless,  only  one  of  the  elements 
that  went  to  make  up  his  life. 

The  "  Prince  "  was  proud  that  the  world  should 
know  he  was  her  patron,  yet  he  took  every  possible 
precaution  not  to  compromise  her.  Lieutenant  Ben 
ners  would  have  been  glad  to  have  every  officer  in 
the  United  States  Navy  suspect  that  Ola  Del  loved 
him.  That  she  was  so  secretive  and  circumspect, 
galled  him  a  little — yet  only  a  little,  for  nothing  ever 

209 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

stirred  him  deeply.  She  knew  the  "  Prince's  "  ideal  of 
her  was  the  highest  possible  embodiment  of  human 
perfections;  and  she  longed  to  attain  that  standard. 
The  best,  the  purest,  the  holiest  sentiments  that  any 
soul  may  feel,  the  "  Prince "  awakened  within  her. 
She  loved  him,  and  in  that  love  there  was  not  the 
smallest  element  of  infidelity  to  Adrian  Benners.  She 
kissed  the  "  Prince "  with  as  pure  a  feeling  as  a 
virgin  would  have  for  a  brother  or  father.  To  humor 
her,  he  spoke  of  the  money  he  had  advanced  in  her 
interest  as  a  loan ;  but  in  his  soul,  the  man  felt  that 
comfort  which  comes  to  every  truly  noble  person 
who  knows  that  his  money  and  labor  are  blessing 
those  he  loves. 

Ned  St.  Claire  had  once  said  to  her,  when  they 
were  talking  over  her  worries  and  perplexities,  "  A 
woman  may  tell  her  brother,  as  you  call  me,  a  great 
many  things.  She  may  read  him  her  letters  from 
'  Prince '  and  '  Pirate, '  she  may  confess,  without  re 
serve,  what  most  of  the  men  who  are  besieging  her 
in  one  way  or  another,  say  to  her.  But  if  she  really 
loves,  there  is  one  man's  letters  she  does  not  let  her 
brother  read;  there  is  one  love  she  holds  too  sacred 
to  mention;  there  is  one  sweet  secret  she  most  care 
fully  guards  from  prying  eyes.  I  know  you  are  pretty 
confidential  with  me  in  reference  to  the  '  Prince '  and 
the  '  Pirate, '  and  your  husband's  incessant  demands 
on  you  for  money;  and  I  am  convinced  that  you  are 
not  a  votary  of  passion;  but,  my  girl,  you  are  just 
as  human  as  all  the  rest  of  flesh,  if  the  right  man 
comes  along.  And  when  that  man  cames,  you  won't 

210 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

make  a  father  confessor  of  your  brother  Ned,  nor  will 
that  fortunate  man  think  you  frigid  and  passionless.  " 

She  laughed  a  little  and  then  said,  "  Do  you 
think  I  shall  ever  meet  that  fortunate  man?" 

"  You  never  have  met  him,  "  said  Ned. 

What  a  world  of  relief  his  words  conveyed  to 
her,  for  at  that  very  time  Lieutenant  Benners  was 
her  lover,  and  the  two  men  had  met  a  number  of 
times  in  her  little  parlor.  She  was  comforted  by  this 
confident  assurance  more  than  she  would  have  liked 
to  admit,  even  to  herself.  That  same  evening  when 
Lieutenant  Benners  said  to  her,  "  You  dear  girl,  come 
here  and  kiss  your  old  man, "  she  felt  so  happy  at  the 
thought  that  she  belonged  to  him  and  that  no  one  on 
earth  knew  it. 

There  lived  within  her  and  acted  upon  her,  two 
souls.  By  this  word  "  souls,  "  do  not  understand  two 
immortal  somethings  which  might  live  through  an 
eternity  of  bliss  for  a  few  meritorious  acts  done  in  the 
brief  span  of  this  life,  or  through  an  eternity  of 
blisters,  for  failing  to  be  able  to  believe  certain  theo 
logical  dogmas.  That  is  not  its  meaning  here.  There 
were  two  forces,  of  almost  equal  power,  but  of  exactly 
diametrical  natures,  which  dominated  her  and  con 
trolled  her  acts  by  turns.  She  was  equally  at  the  mercy 
of  the  one  or  the  other.  Had  she  never  known  and 
felt  the  power  of  both  of  them,  had  she  met  only 
Adrian  Benners,  or  only  the  "  Prince, "  she  would 
have  believed,  in  loving  the  one  she  did  love,  that 

211 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

every  faculty  for  loving  within  her  had  been  called 
forth. 

But  as  she  had  met  them  both,  loved  them  both, 
and  that,  too,  at  the  same  time,  she  was  forced  to  set 
her  own  feelings  down  as  a  mystery,  inexplicable  even 
to  herself.  All  the  "  Prince's  "  holy  love  for  her,  his 
divine  confidence  in  her,  were  precious  beyond  the 
power  of  language.  When  under  the  domination  of 
that  force  which  the  "Prince"  called  forth,  she  yearned 
to  be  what  he  thought  her.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  these  two  souls  of  hers  inhabited  two  bodies,  and 
that  she  walked  through  life,  at  times  in  a  celestial 
body,  at  other  times  in  the  terrestrial  body ;  that  with 
the  "  Prince  "  she  was  a  celestial  body,  almost  a  pure 
spirit;  with  Lieutenant  Benners,  she  was  a  terrestrial 
body,  a  thing  of  matter  and  senses. 

In  each  condition  her  happiness  was  almost  per 
fect.  Had  she  been  confident  of  Lieutenant  Ben 
ners'  love,  she  would  have  felt  none  of  the  aspirations 
of  ambition.  Her  wish  then,  for  both  him  and  her 
self,  would  have  been  to  live  as  butterflies,  "  and  die 
when  all  things  are  bright  and  fair. "  But  the  dis 
tracting  factor  from  perfect  happiness,  with  the  Lieu 
tenant,  was  her  lack  of  confidence  in  him.  And  with 
the  "  Prince,  "  she  felt  so  immeasurably  beneath  what 
he  believed  her  to  be. 

In  her  celestial  body  she  placed  one  cool,  passion 
less  hand  in  that  of  the  "  Prince, "  and  walked  up  the 
Mount  of  Purity,  freeing  herself  at  every  step  from 

212 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

the  trammels  of  passion.  With  a  bare  arm  around 
Adrian  Benners'  neck,  she  lulled  her  soul  into  softest 
quiet;  enjoyed  the  perfect  delight  of  being,  of  living, 
of  loving,  ungoaded  by  the  thought  of  her  own 
frailties  and  failures. 


213 


CHAPTER    XX. 
The  pump  at  both  ends. 

Sunday  afternoon  always  brought  the  "  Princt  '' 
and  Jack  to  dinner,  and  in  the  evening  Ned  St.  Claire 
was  generally  one  of  their  number.  At  every  breath 
ing-spell  during  the  week  the  "  Prince  "  thought,  "  FH 
see  her  on  Sunday.  " 

At  the  close  of  one  of  those  dinners  he  said : 
"  There  is  no  place  I  enjoy  food  as  I  do  here." 

"  Perhaps  love  is  a  better  appetizer  than  hunger,  ' 
said  Nell. 

"  I  think  so ;  and,  besides,  there  is  never  any  per 
fumery  in  the  pudding  sauce  here, "  said  the 
"  Prince.  " 

This  remark  struck  Nell's  risibles,  and  she 
went  off  into  a  "  spe-asm  "  of  laughter.  As  soon  as 
she  could  get  her  face  straight,  she  said,  "  Upon  my 
word,  it  is  a  pity  to  spoil  two  houses  with  you  and 
Ola. " 

"  My  opinion,  exactly,  "  said  the  "  Prince, "  and 
he  patted  Ola's  cheek. 

"  A  bunch  of  white  roses  will  make  Ola  faint 
dead  away,  and  you  can't  abide  spices  or  flavorings,  " 
said  Nell. 

"  Same  kind  of  stuff  in  both  of  us,  isn't  there, 
'  Baby?'  "  said  the  "  Prince.  " 

"How's  my  friend,  Old  Jake?"  said  Nell. 
214 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  Oh,  Old  Jake's  all  right,"  said  the  "  Prince.  " 

"  Old  Jake  Israel  is  my  particular  pet  of  all  your 
finance  men.  Jack,  we'll  have  to  invite  Old  Jake  to 
our  wedding,  to  reward  him  for  the  many  good  laughs 
I  have  had  over  a  description  of  his  trades  with  Mr. 
York, "  said  Nell. 

"  Old  Jake  is  all  right  on  a  trade,  but  he  might 
be  a  pretty  tough  dose  at  a  wedding  feast, "  said  Mr. 
York.  "  When  he  comes  to  see  me,  all  the  boys  know 
there  is  a  trade  on  hand.  The  old  man  stands  out 
side  the  door  and  says,  '  Vere's  dot  man  York?' 
Then  some  of  them  call  me.  Then  Old  Jake  sits  down 
by  a  table,  as  close  up  to  me  as  I  will  let  him  get,  and 
commences  a  description  of  his  enterprise  by  laying  it 
down  on  the  table  with  his  fore-finger.  When  he 
gets  a  little  warmer,  he  points  that  fore-finger  at  me; 
when  he  is  at  his  height,  he  places  that  fore-finger  on 
the  side  of  his  nose,  tries  to  pet  me  with  the  other 
hand,  and  calls  me  '  Harold. '  Then  I  begin  to  look 
out  for  the  old  man  and  say,  '  Hold  on,  Jake !  Hold  on ! 
You  are  getting  too  familiar;  now  I  know  you  are 
going  to  cheat  me.' " 

"  Doesn't  that  offened  him?  "  said  Ola. 

"Offend  him?  No,  he  takes  it  as  a  compliment 
that  I  think  he  can  cheat  me, "  said  the  "  Prince, " 
laughing  at  Ola's  simplicity. 

"  He  brought  me  an  industrial  enterprise  not 
long  ago.  We  have  succeeded  in  getting  several  big 
manufactories  in  this  vicinity  to  consolidate,  and 
form  themselves  into  a  stock  company.  " 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  Ned.  You  are  just  in  time  for 
215 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

coffee  and  cigars, "  said  Ola,  as  Lucy  brought  St. 
Claire  into  the  room. 

"  No  coffee,  please.  I'll  join  in  the  smoke, 
though,  "  said  Ned. 

As  the  smoke  from  the  cigars  of  the  gentlemen 
began  to  fill  the  room,  the  "  Prince  "  went  on  talking 
about  his  commercial  enterprise  deal. 

"  The  actual  value  of  the  different  plants  is  four 
million  four  hundred  thousand  dollars.  But  we  have 
capitalized  the  company  for  five  millions.  " 

"  Why  do  you  add  six  hundred  thousand  dollars 
more  than  the  actual  value,  "  said  Ola. 

"  We  promoters  propose  to  make  something, 
'  Baby, '  "  said  the  "  Prince, "  as  he  blew  the  smoke, 
out  of  his  cigar,  and  then,  with  a  second  blow,  pre 
vented  it  from  going  into  Ola's  face.  "  We  pull  the 
wool  over  the  eyes  of  the  public  by  representing  the 
good  will  of  the  different  concerns  as  worth  six  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars.  In  other  words,  we  water  our 
enterprise  that  much. " 

"  Oh,  yes,  a  pump  is  just  as  essential  to  the  Wall 
Street  man  as  it  is  to  the  milk  man, "  said  Ned ;  which 
remark  made  them  all  laugh,  and  sent  Nell  off  into 
another  "  spe-asm,  "  and  Ola,  looking  with  friendly 
approval  at  this  brother  of  hers  put  in,  "  You  have 
your  say  occasionally,  don't  you,  Ned?" 

"  I  have  prepared  this  enterprise  for  the  London 
market,"  continued  the  "  Prince,"  "and  when  the  pro 
moters  '  across  the  pond  '  get  hold  of  it,  they  will 
find  another  convenient  pump,  I'll  wager.  " 

"  The  milk  of  human  kindness,  dealt  out  on  Wall 
216 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Street,  seems  to  be  thinner  than  that  from  our  country 
dairies ;  for  you  have  a  pump  at  both  ends, "  said  Ola. 
Then  they  all  laughed ;  for  they  thought  they  had  the 
joke  on  the  "  Prince.  "  He  also  joined,  and  quietly 
retorted,  "  In  some  cases,  darling,  yes;  but  in  this  case, 
no.  For  the  enterprise  will  stand  the  amount  of 
water  we  intend  to  use,  as  we  can  show  it  produces 
seventeen-and-a-half  per  cent,  net  earnings,  and  is 
capable  of  doing  better.  We  issue  bonds  and  pre 
ferred  and  common  stock.  The  common  stock  is 
worth  more  than  the  preferred,  or  the  bonds,  as  it  is 
liable  to  pay  a  better  income.  " 

"  A  great  place,  that  Wall  Street, "  said  Jack, 
"  but  you  are  liable  to  panic.  " 

"A  panic?"  exclaimed  the  "Prince,"  "I'd  give 
a  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  a  panic.  And  a  war? 
I'd  give  a  million  for  a  war.  That  would  be  just  the 
picnic  for  me.  People  are  of  the  impression  that  the 
immense  fortunes  made  in  Wall  Street  are  made  in 
speculating  in  stocks  on  margin.  That's  where  they 
are  mistaken.  Show  me  the  man  who  has  made  any 
money  in  that  way,  and  kept  it  very  long.  There  are 
a  million  and  one  other  ways  of  making  money.  Here's 
a  man  with  eighteen  hundred  acres  of  coal,  iron  and 
timber  land,  in  Centre  County,  Pennsylvania,  free 
and  clear,  valued  at  from  fifty  to  two  hundred  dollars 
an  acre;  also  three  hundred  and  twenty  acres  of  lead 
and  timber  land  in  Missouri,  free  and  clear,  title  per 
fect,  valued  at  three  hundred  dollars  per  acre.  Owner 
will  trade  the  land,  and  ten  per  cent,  cash,  for  good 
bonds.  I  happened  to  have  some  bonds  placed  in  my 

217 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

hands  to  sell  or  trade,  which  just  filled  the  bill.  " 

"  Where  is  this  land  that  is  worth  fifty  to  two 
hundred  dollars  per  acre?"  said  St.  Claire. 

"  In  Centre  County,  Pennsylvania, "  said  the 
"Prince?" 

Ned  laughed.  "  The  Buckwheater  has  got  the 
best  of  the  bond  man;  for  there  isn't  an  acre  of  land 
in  all  that  section  worth  more  than  from  five  to  ten 
dollars  an  acre.  I've  been  all  through  there.  " 

"  Chalk  up  one  for  the  Buckwheater,  "  said  Nell. 

The  "  Prince "  laughed,  as  though  he  thought 
Wall  Street  were  not  so  very  easy  to  get  the  best  of 
after  all,  "  I  guess  the  bonds  are  about  as  much 
inflated  as  the  land. "  he  said.  "  Where  the  smile 
comes  in,  is  the  ten  per  cent.  cash.  Of  course  I  was 
in  on  that.  The  land  and  the  bonds  might  have  been 
no  good,  but  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  the 
cash.  There's  all  kinds  of  brave  soldiers  start  out  to 
beat  Wall  Street,  but  they  generally  go  limping  home, 
maimed  and  halt  and  blind.  " 

"  What  excuse  have  you  Wall  Street  chaps  for 
living,  any  way?  Of  course  you  love  and  are  good  ^o 
Ola,  but  those  dried-up  old  bachelors,  who  spend  their 
days  in  shearing  the  sheep—" 

Here  Jack  broke  into  a  most  hearty  but  impolite 
laugh. 

"  Hush,  Jack.  That's  what  they  do ;  I  heard  Mr. 
York  tell  Ola  so  the  very  last  time  he  was  here,  "  said 
Nell,  with  good-humored  indignation.  But  Jack 
couldn't  stop  to  save  his  life.  He  laughed  until  the 
tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks.  Indeed,  his  enjoyment 

218 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

of  Nell's  paraphrase  of  a  well-known  Wall  Street 
term,  was  so  sincere  that  it  affected  all  those  in  the 
dining-room. 

When  they  were  finally  quieted,  the  "  Prince " 
came  to  Nell's  relief  by  telling  her  that  if  she  wanted 
to  talk  Wall  Street  wise,  she  must  say,  "  fleecing  the 
lambs." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  is  a  distinction  without  a 
great  deal  of  difference, "  said  Nell,  a  trifle  disposed 
to  contest  the  point. 

"  It  is  a  mile  post  along  the  road  of  time,  that 
makes  the  difference,  Nell, "  said  Ned,  "  about  the 
same  as  that  which  exempts  the  big  boy  from  mas 
sage  treatment  applied  over  mamma's  knee  with  a 
slipper.  When  the  lambs  get  to  be  sheep,  they  skip 
away  and  refuse  to  be  'sheared.'  " 

"  Then  it  is  only  the  young  and  innocent  that 
can  be  victimized?"  said  Nell. 

"  Indeed,  no,  "  said  the  "  Prince,  "  "  as  long  as  a 
man  holds  to  the  delusion  that  he  can  beat  the  game, 
just  so  long  will  he  drop  his  earnings  in  Wall 
Street.  When  he  comes  to  his  senses,  and  acknow 
ledges  that  the  principle  upon  which  all  gambling 
games  are  founded,  and  gives  the  per  cent,  to  the  bank, 
he  will  walk  away  lighter  in  pocket,  but  with  a  few 
rooms  up-stairs  occupied.  This  is  one  way  in  which 
money  is  made :  A  contractor  wanted  to  raise  one 
million  five  hundred  thousand  dollars ;  I  got  a  well- 
rated  firm  to  loan  him  their  four  months  paper,  on  two 
per  cent.,  with  a  bank  guarantee.  I  also  got  four  well- 
rated  endorsers.  He  paid  each  of  these  endorsers  two 

219 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

per  cent,  for  the  use  of  their  names.  In  other  words,  I 
worked  up  one  milion  five  hundred  thousand  dollars 
worth  of  first-class,  well-rated,  bang-up,  negotiable 
paper.  Commission  for  York,  twenty  thousand  dol 
lars.  The  whole  transaction  was  based  on  the  value 
of  the  contract.  " 

"  I  would  have  liked  the  job  of  furnishing  him 
some  first-class,  well-rated,  bang-up,  negotiable  paper, 
for  one  half  your  commission,  "  said  Nell. 

"  It's  a  case  of  "  vouloir  sans  pouvoir,  "  isn't  it, 
Nell?"  said  Ola. 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea  what  your  French 
means,  Ola,  but  I'll  go  you  a  blind  and  say  yes, " 
said  Nell. 

"  Your  endeavor  to  air  your  knowledge,  Ola,  was 
more  fortunate  in  its  results  than  were  those  of  poor, 
shipwrecked  Paddy,  on  the  coast  of  France,  who 
wanted  to  borrow  a  gridiron, "  said  St.  Claire. 

"  Don't  say  a  word,  Ned.  Nell  let  me  down  easy 
that  time,  but  she's  bound  to  make  me  square  up,  in 
terest,  principal  and  all.  She's  too  good  a  business 
woman  to  let  me  off  like  that,  "  said  Ola. 

"  Oh,  don't  say  a  word  about  business,  I'm  green 
with  jealousy.  I  want  to  be  a  Wall  Street  man,  "  said 
Nell.  Then,  an  instant  later,  she  added,  "  You  rent 
an  office,  Jack,  and  do  the  propriety,  while  I  furnish 
the  Napoleon-of-Finance  brains.  " 

"  All  right, "  said  Jack.  .  "  Just  as  soon  as  I 
have  money  enough  to  pay  the  first  month's  rent,  I 
will. " 

"  When  you're  ready,  draw  on  me  for  the  first 
220 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

six  months'  rent, "  said  the  "  Prince ; "  and  then  he 
launched  further  into  the  mysteries  of  Wall  Street 
operations,  as  follows :  "  A  president  of  a  railroad 
wanted  me  to  procure  him  a  loan  of  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  on  the  bonds  of  the  N.  M.  &  A.  Railroad  Com 
pany.  The  company  has  three,  six  per  cent,  bonded 
debts  against  it,  issued  on  the  different  sections  of 
the  road.  The  bonds  he  wanted  to  procure  the  loan 
on  are  part  of  the  ten  million  five  per  cent,  blanket 
mortgage,  of  which  one  million  five  hundred  thousand 
for  improvements,  are  listed  on  the  stock  exchange; 
and  the  balance  is  held  in  trust,  to  retire  the  three 
outstanding  issues  as  they  become  due.  " 

"  Excuse  my  stupidity,  but  what  is  a  blanket 
mortgage?"  said  Ola. 

"  A  blanket  mortgage,  generally  speaking,  dar 
ling,  is  a  mortgage  that  covers  the  whole  property ; 
and  the  blanket  mortgage  in  question  was  issued  for 
the  purpose  of  concentrating  and  reducing  the  bonded 
indebtedness  from  six  per  cent,  to  five  per  cent. ;  to 
be  used  to  retire  the  outstanding  bonds  as  they 
mature.  As  the  outstanding  bonds  are  retired,  then 
this  blanket  mortgage  becomes  the  only  mortgage  on 
the  property.  " 

"  I  see,  "  said  Ola.  "  What  a  great  thing  business 
is." 

Then  they  all  laughed;  for  they  knew  she  didn't 
see  at  all. 


221 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

"  The  saddest  of  it  all  is  this,  that  no  one  on  earth 
does  know,  or  ever  can  know  me." 

As  the  years  passed,  Ola  worked  with  the  en 
thusiasm  of  a  devotee,  under  the  instruction  of  her 
master.  The  old  man  took  the  greatest  interest  in  her, 
and  became  really  fond  of  her.  She  had  had  five  or 
six  years  under  a  skillful  master,  before  her  marriage. 
Now  her  whole  soul  was  in  her  work.  She  must  suc 
ceed.  Her  worst  enemy  could  not  have  accused  her  of 
indolence;  but  it  was  much  easier  for  her  to  satisfy 
her  master,  than  it  was  to  satisfy  herself. 

She  once  said  to  him,  "  Oh !  if  I  only  could  re 
produce  what  is  within  me!  I  know  the  effect  I 
would  make;  I  fancy  I  know  the  colors  and  the 
strokes  necessary  to  this  end,  and  when  I  use  them, 
they  are  not  in  the  least  what  I  thought  they  would 
be.  I  miss  what  I  think  so  many  others  miss, — 
that  is,  catching  the  expression,  even  of  inanimate 
things.  Flowers  have  individual  expression  to  me; 
roses  are  all  amorous :  the  red  ones  love  like  Italians ; 
the  white  ones,  like  Russians ;  the  pink  ones,  like  the 
English;  the  cream-colored,  like  the  Germans.  It 
hurts  my  feelings  more  to  see  a  woman  bedecked 
with  flowers  which  ill-accord  with  her  temper  and 
temperament,  than  to  see  her  with  an  unbecoming 
gown.  I  always  think  the  flowers  must  be  ill  at  ease. 

222 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Who  can  look  at  maiden-hair  fern  without  thinking 
of  a  New  England  dame,  clean,  cold,  passionless;  or 
at  any  of  the  pinks,  without  seeing  a  country  belle, 
sweet  and  pretty,  with  good,  lasting  qualities.  And 
the  St.  Joseph's  lilies  are  made  to  grow  in  a  land  in 
habited  by  celestial  bodies.  The  lilies-of-the-valley 
are  like  your  unpretending  female,  who  will  show 
you  an  unsuspected  trait  that  you  little  dreamed 
slept  in  her  character,  and  against  which  you  could 
not  be  on  your  guard. 

"  These  are  the  things  I  see  in  the  natural 
flowers ;  but  my  daubs  are  just  so  much  pigment 
mixed  with  oil  or  water,  and  smeared  on.  They  have 
no  lauguage  of  any  kind.  They  can  not  even  speak 
to  me,  who  created  them.  I  never  can  finish  anything. 
Somehow  or  other  it  will  not  finish.  I  can  always 
see  something  I  should  add  or  change.  And,  finally, 
when  I  put  it  from  me  in  disgust,  I  should  actually 
enjoy  cutting  it  into  shreds  and  burning  it  to  ashes. 
Oh,  art !  art !  like  happiness,  thou  art  hard  to  cap 
ture." 

But  her  master  did  not  hold  her  work  in  such 
contempt.  He  saw  that  ideality,  imagination,  so 
largely  developed  in  her,  was  what  made  her  so  dissat 
isfied  with  her  pictures.  And  the  old  man  knew  that 
the  public  was  not  over-burdened  with  these  fine 
notions.  She  drew  correctly  and  colored  well.  These 
she  would  get  credit  for.  His  first  care  had  been  to 
curb  her  fancy,  tie  her  down  to  the  drudgery  of  cor 
rect  drawing.  She  watched  him,  and  listened  to  him. 
When  he  was  illustrating  something  with  his  brush 

223 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

and  had  about  half  finished,  she  would  say,  "  Please 
let  me  finish  it,  that  I  may  know  if  I  have  caught 
your  ideas.  " 

He  said  to  her  over  and  over  again,  "  Work  from 
light  to  dark;  from  cold  to  warm;  and  avoid  mud; 
avoid  mud.  " 

She  was  patient,  attentive,  industrious;  and  the 
old  man  at  length  chuckled  to  himself,  "  She  does 
better  work  that  I  do.  She  is  as  correct  as  I  am 
in  drawing,  and  her  limitless  imagination  puts 
ideality  and  soul  and  beauty  into  everything  she 
touches.  In  short,  she  paints  herself,  paints  her  inner- 
woman,  upon  everything.  " 

When  he  stood  looking  at  her  work  in  black  and 
white,  he  felt  a  pang  of  regret  at  the  thought  of  chang 
ing  it.  He  would  say,  "  It  seems  a  pity  to  touch  it. 
It  is  so  striking,  so  characteristic,  but,  "  almost  with 
a  sigh,  "  of  course  it  lacks  color.  " 

She  would  never  have  signed  a  picture,  nor  saved 
one  for  an  exhibition,  had  not  her  master  scolded 
and  coerced  her  into  it.  Her  imagination  ran  riot 
and  carried  her  with  it.  When  she  was  alone,  the 
tickings  of  the  clock  became  sentences,  messages  of 
love,  or  condemnation.  She  could  never  dictate  what 
these  clock  words  should  be.  They  were  just  what 
they  were,  arid  were  clear  and  distinct  to  her,  though 
no  other  soul  could  read  the  message.  She  stood  at 
the  window  and  looked  up  at  the  stars.  The 
"  Prince's  "  star  looked  calmly  down  on  her,  and  said, 
"  Little  angel,  pure  and  sweet,  I  see  you,  good  night; 

224 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

go  to  bed,  "  or  again  it  said,  "  I  know  you,  I  am 
heart-broken,  I  have  died,  good-bye." 

The  trees  and  shrubs  in  the  Park  were  all  well 
acquainted  with  her,  and  told  her  lots  of  things.  A 
little  squirrel  that  halted  and  turned  to  look  at  her, 
was  not  actuated  by  idle  curiosity;  it  had  a  message 
to  give  her.  Thus  she  worked  on,  ever  discontented 
with  her  work,  and  dreamed,  and  dreamed;  scarcely 
anything  in  the  objective  world  was  real  to  her;  but 
her  own  kingdom  was  peopled  with  a  mighty  host. 

And  all  this  time  the  mysterious  power  that  Lieu 
tenant  Benners  had  over  her,  gained  in  strength.  At 
times  a  soft,  musical  voice  would  speak  to  her  soul, 
"  You  dear  girl,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  " 

These  words  were  spoken  to  her  without,  seeming 
ly,  any  connecting  link  or  provocation.  Then  the  phys 
ical  woman  became  inert,  and  her  soul  almost  left  her 
body.  Her  big  grey  eyes  were  apparently  fastened 
on  one  point,  but  she  saw  nothing.  She  was  with 
him.  The  slightest  token  his  hand  had  once  touched, 
a  letter  from  him,  a  box  in  which  he  had  brought 
her  candy,  was  sufficient  to  cast  her  into  this  con 
dition.  She  had  long  ceased  to  resist  him,  as  she 
deemed  any  effort  in  that  line  worse  than  wasted 
strength. 

Would  her  pictures,  which  were  to  be  put  on  ex 
hibition,  sell  for  enough  to  pay  her  debt  to  the 
"Prince?"  she  questioned.  What  would  she  not 
have  done,  to  gain  this  end.  Anything,  she  said,  any 
thing.  She  could  never  marry  the  "  Prince,"  or  the 
"  Banker, "  or  Mr.  Cameron,  or  any  other  respectable 

225 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

man.  She  knew  this.  But,  oh,  to  pay  that  debt  and 
fly  from  the  tortures  of  the  "  Prince's  "  look  of  loving 
confidence!  In  Italy  she  could  paint,  and  live,  or  die; 
it  made  little  difference  which.  She  had  worked  five 
years  under  her  master,  and  during  all  this  time  the 
"  Prince  "  had  never  fagged,  never  swerved  one  hair's 
breadth,  in  his  noble  devotion  to  her.  How  she 
worshiped  him.  How  she  gloried  in  his  goodness. 
How  she  wished  that  by  some  accident  he  would  kill 
her.  Mr.  Cameron  too,  and  the  "  Banker  " — they  were 
good  men,  and  they  loved  her.  "  Why,  in  goodness' 
name,  could  they  not  have  loved  somebody  else?" 

The  time  for  the  exhibition  was  near  at  hand. 
Her  pictures  were  finished,  and  so  was  her  strength. 
"  The  "  Pirate,  "  lured  by  the  money  he  made  selling 
her  pictures,  had  hung  around  during  all  these  years. 
He  was  full  of  seemingly  unostentations  brag.  He 
could  do  wonders  at  that  sale,  and  he  would.  And 
then  she  could  really  paint  well.  She  would  be  self- 
sustaining  at  least,  if  not  profitable.  What  a  glory 
it  would  be  to  have  such  a  wife ! — and,  what  a  com 
fort! — she  would  not  cost  anything.  He  rubbed  his 
big  white  hands,  devoured  her  with  his  lecherous 
eyes,  and  hitched  around  and  hedged  around  the  ques 
tion  of  marriage,  and  finally  blurted  out  his  desires.  It 
happened  that  he  spoke  of  his  passion,  just  at  a  time 
when  Ola  was  suffering  the  keenest  pangs  of  self-ac 
cusation.  His  desire  to  marry  her  had  never  moved 
her  in  any  way  except  to  a  further  indifferent  recogni 
tion  of  the  conceit  of  man;  but  now?  Could  she  use 
this  creature  as  a  means  of  gaining  freedom? 

226 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  You  have  often  told  me  you  have  immense  in 
fluence  with  patrons  of  art,"  she  said.  "  I  am  in  debt, 
very  much  in  debt ;  and  I  wish  with  all  my  soul  to  pay 
this  money  I  owe.  There  is  the  sum  of  my  obliga 
tion,  "  and  she  handed  him  a  slip  of  paper  upon  which 
was  jotted  down  the  moneys  she  had  received  from 
the  "  Prince.  "  "  If,  through  your  influence,  my  pic 
tures  sell  for  enough  to  cover  that  amount,  I  will,  if 
you  still  wish  it,  marry  you.  " 

He  made  a  movement  as  if  to  put  his  arms  around 
her;  but  she  held  him  at  bay  with  her  hand  and  eyes. 
"  Stop !  I  shall  not  deliver  myself  to  you  on  the  in 
stallment  plan.  When  you  have  earned  your  reward, 
you  shall  have  it.  " 

"  Why  make  any  attempt  to  deal  honorably  with 
one  who  cannot  understand  even  the  cardinal  prin 
ciples  of  honesty?  That  I  have  a  husband,"  thought 
Ola,  bitterly,  "  can  cut  no  figure  here.  If  he  can  help 
me  pay  my  debts,  he  shall;  and  then,  Harold,  I  must 
break  your  noble  heart.  But  it  is  better  that  I  should 
fly  from  you,  that  you  should  never  know  where  I 
am,  than  that  I  should  live  here,  and  eventually  in 
herit  your  loathing.  I  know  I  deserve  it,  but  I  could 
not  bear  it.  " 

Thus  the  divine  spark  within  the  woman  calling 
aloud,  continually  upbraided  her — constantly  urged 
her  onward  and  upward — and  she  knew  no  rest. 

At  this  trying  time,  not  the  least  among  those 
who  gave  words  of  good  cheer,  encouragement, 
and  praise,  was  Lieutenant  Benners.  He  was  really 
interested  in  her  work;  and  there  was  to  hittl  9,  sense 

227 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

of  satisfaction  in  the  knowledge  that  she  belonged  to 
him.  He  saw  her  nervous  and  exhausted.  That  heart 
of  his,  which  always  went  out  in  sympathy  to  every 
thing  on  earth  that  suffered,  was  by  no  means  numb 
and  dead  to'  this  strange  woman  who  loved  him  in. 
such  a  peculiar  way.  He  called  her  "  a  dear  girl,  ' 
and  in  his  low,  soft  voice,  he  told  her  'what  a  com 
fort  her  love  was  to  him. '  After  the  exhibition 
she  must  take  a  good  long  rest,  because  she  was 
killing  herself.  She  must  never  do  anything  that 
would  injure  her  health.  She  must  try  to  live  a  long, 
long,  time.  A  long  life,  enjoyed  temperately  to  the 
end,  was  the  Lieutenant's  one  grand  song. 

She  did  not  work  now,  she  could  not;  she  waited 
with  nervous  anxiety  the  result  of  her  five  years  of 
labor.  All  her  friends  were  kind  and  thoughtful, 
but  this  very  tenderness  only  added  to  her  misery. 
Often  and  often  she  thought  bitterly :  '  For  the  worst 
is  this  after  all;  if  they  knew  me,  not  a  soul  on  earth 
would  pity  me.' 

Then  she  would  exclaim,  "  How  untrue  that  is !  I 
am  sure  if  they  knew  me,  every  soul  on  earth  would 
pity  me.  The  saddest  of  it  all  is  that  no  one  on  earth 
does  know,  or  even  can  know  me.  If  I  were  to  tell 
it  with  my  last  breath,  who  would  believe  me?  " 

Ola  was  only  partly  right  in  her  conclusions. 
True,  no  one  on  earth  appreciated  to  the  full  the  in 
fluence  Lieutenant  Benners  had  over  her,  but  Nell  had 
a  faint  idea  of  it — as  complete  an  understanding  of  it, 
perhaps,  as  any  one,  except  Ola,  ever  could  have.  This 
knowledge,  added  to  Nell's  love  for  Ola,  kept  the 

228 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

little  thing  charitable,  loyal,  silent.  Nell  had  bound 
less  faith  in  the  reconstructive  powers  of  Time.  She 
just  watched,  that  she  might  aid,  if  possible,  and 
waited,  with  faith  in  her  friend.  She  had  that  divine 
love  which  "  thinketh  no  evil,  endureth  long,  and  is 
kind."  The  good  God  bless  thee,  Nell. 


229 


CHAPTER     XXII. 

How  the  "  Prince  "  worked  up  a  corner  and  a  "  bull  " 
market. 

Harold  York  sat  in  his  private  office  and  cogitated. 
As  he  passed  through  the  first  rooms  he  had 
left  word  with  Joe  that  he  was  not  to  be  disturbed 
for  the  present.  But  the  "  Prince's "  mind  was  of 
the  genus,  active.  A  complex  thought  he  dismissed, 
as  too  much  bother  to  disentangle;  he  arrived  at  a 
conclusion  quickly,  and  acted  just  as  quickly.  He 
cogitated  about  ten  seconds,  then  touched  an  electric 
button,  in  response  to  which  the  shiny,  bald  pate  of 
Joe  appeared  at  the  door,  and  the  interrogative  eyes 
of  Joe  said,  "  Did  you  ring,  sir?  " 

To  this  silent  question,  Mr.  York  replied,  "  Sit 
down,  Joe ;  I  have  an  important  commission  for  you  to 
execute  and  I  want  you  to  understand  what  you  are 
about  before  you  begin,  see?" 

Joe  did  see,  both  with  his  eyes  and  his  under 
standing,  for  he  nodded  his  head,  and  his  master  con 
tinued  :  "  There  will  be  an  exhibition  of  paintings  of 
American  artists  at  the  American  Institute,  commenc 
ing  next  week.  Among  the  collection  there  are  some 
signed  '  Ola  Del. '  I  want  to  buy  those  Ola  Del 
pictures,  see?  " 

Same  nod  and  same  silence  from  Joe. 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  get  them  for  less  than  they 
are  worth,  see?  " 

230 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

At  this  juncture  Joe  saw  more  than  his  master 
gave  him  credit  for.  But  he  had  been  too  long  in 
Mr.  York's  employ  "  to  give  anything  away, "  so 
he  just  made  the  same  nod  and  kept  the  same  still 
tongue ;  which  practice  may  have  given  wisdom  to  his 
head,  but,  presumably,  had  nothing  to  do  with  his 
baldness. 

"  I  have  had  those  pictures  appraised  by  a  com 
petent  artist;  here  is  a  catalogue,  with  the  estimated 
values  this  man  puts  upon  the  pictures  set  down  op 
posite  each  number. " 

The  "  Prince  "  did  not  feel  himself  obligated  to 
tell  Joe  that  he  had  had  a  private  sitting  with  Ola's 
old  master,  and  that  to  the  figures  given  by  the  old 
man,  which  were  large  enough,  conscience  'knows,  he 
had  added  a  generous  double.  Certainly  not.  That 
was  none  of  Joe's  business. 

"  I  want  you  to  leave  orders  with  half-a-dozen 
or  more  dealers  in  art,  to  bid  on  those  Ola  Del 
pictures,  see?  " 

"  Yes  sir, "  said  Joe,  "  match  orders,  to  make 
a  '  bull '  market.  " 

"  Just  so,  "  said  Mr.  York.  "  Now,  of  course,  if 
the  outside  chips  in,  we  will  have  to  take  what  they 
give  us.  You  stand  close  to  the  auctioneer  and  keep 
quiet.  If  you  see  that  a  picture  is  going  to  one  of 
your  own  men,  all  right ;  if  not,  you  get  it,  see  ?  " 

Same  nod,  same  silence. 

"  You  will  have  to  make  a  deposit  with  those  art 
dealers,  and  go  well  heeled  yourself,  see?  " 

231 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

Same  nod  from  Joe,  but  not  a  single  word  ut 
tered. 

"  I  am  not  to  be  known  in  the  matter,  see?  "  and 
the  "  Prince "  nodded  his  own  head  and  rather 
squinted  one  of  his  eyes. 

There  was  evidently  enough  force  about  this 
action  to  unseal  Joe's  lips,  for  he  said,  "  Yes  sir,  I 
understand." 

"Very  well,  that's  all,"  and  Mr.  York  handed 
Joe  the  cash  with  which  to  start  the  "bull  "  market 
on  the  Ola  Del  pictures.  Exit  Joe. 

"Poor  little  thing;"  mused  the  "Prince,"  "I 
think  her  heart  would  be  broken  if  those  pictures  at 
tracted  no — "  Then  he  struck  the  tiny  bell  again,  and 
re-enter  Joe. 

"  By  the  way,  Joe,  do  you  happen  to  be  on 
chummy  terms  with  any  of  the  art  critics  of  the  lead 
ing  New  York  newspapers?" 

"  No  sir,  "  said  Joe. 

"  Well,  get  there,  "  said  the  "  Prince.  " 

"  All  right  sir,  "  said  Joe. 

"  That's  all.  "  Re-exit  Joe. 

Then  Mr.  York  took  up  his  musings  where  he 
had  left  off.  "  Poor  little  thing.  I  think  her  heart 
would  be  broke,  if  those  pictures  attracted  no  atten 
tion,  and  sold  for  a  song.  They  shall  be  talked  up 
enough,  and  bring  the  best  price  of  any  collection  in 
the  exhibit.  I'll  see  to  that,  '  Baby. '  But  they  shan't 
any  one  except  Harold  York  ever  own  one  of  them. 
No,  siree!  Not  if  my  six  months'  note,  after  I've  put 

232 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

up  my  G.  S.  bonds,  can  be  discontinued  for  enough  to 
pay  for  them.  No,  sir!  They're  going  to  be  mine, 
every  one  of  them.  " 

Joe  went  forth  on  his  mission.  He  had  been  years 
with  Harold  York,  had  served  that  gentleman  when 
he  was  a  member  of  "  the  board,  "  and  Joe  knew  all 
the  tricks  in  the  trade  of  making  a  "  bull  "  market. 
By  the  time  the  doors  of  the  exhibition  were  thrown 
open  to  the  public,  Joe  had  found  the  right  men  to 
"  put  on  to,  "  and  "  work  "  the  art  critics ;  had  left, 
in  person  and  by  proxy,  a  limited  cross-order  with 
well  known  art  dealers,  with  whom  Joe  made  a  large 
cash  deposit,  as  a  guarantee  of  good  faith.  Joe  hadn't 
much  confidence  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer,  but  when  he 
could  feel  his  vest  pocket  bulge  out  with  a  good  wad  of 
bank  bills  or  certified  checks,  he  felt  pretty  sure  he'd 
"  get  there ;  "  and  he  was  absolutely  sure  of  this,  when 
he  knew  he  could  "  oversize  the  other  fellow's  pile. '' 

Joe  sauntered  along  through  the  rooms  of  the  ex 
hibition  and  "  took  a  good,  square  look  "  at  the  Ola  Del 
paintings.  They  were  in  crayon,  pastel,  water 
colors  and  oil.  There  were  one  or  two  flower  pieces, 
one  of  fruit,  two  or  three  landscapes,  a  pig  eating  out 
of  a  trough,  and  a  cat  with  her  kittens.  The  rest 
were  what  might  be  called  ideal  portraits;  for,  if  the 
face  had  been  intended  to  represent  any  special  per 
son,  there  was  something  in  the  pose,  or  in  the  ex 
pression,  which  would  make  the  picture  just  as  valu 
able  to  a  perfect  stranger,  as  to  a.  friend  of  the  one 
portrayed.  Joe  sauntered  along,  "  took  them  all  in,  " 

233 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

and  said,  "  Nothing  like  a  woman,  to  make  a  fool  of 
a  man. " 

At  length  Joe  halted  before  one.  It  represented  a 
woman  standing  at  an  open  window  at  night,  look 
ing  up  at  the  stars.  The  bare  feet  peeped  out  from  a 
night  dress  that  clung  beautifully,  here  and  there,  to 
a  most  perfect  female  figure.  The  long  black  hair 
hung  in  ripples  over  her  shoulders  and  down  her 
back;  the  eyes  had  a  soft  expression  in  their  grey 
depths. 

"  Gosh !  "  said  Joe,- "  I  wouldn't  mind  having  that 
myself.  But  where  have  I  seen  that  face?  Darned 
if  I  know,  but  I've  seen  it  some  place.  " 

The  Captain  of  the  "  Grant,  "  and  Mr.  Cameron 
"  swaggered  "  through  the  rooms  of  the  exhibit.  Mr. 
Cameron  had  kept  the  Captain  posted  as  to  the 
progress  of  his  love  affair  with  Ola,  and  the  Captain 
expected  to  dance  at  his  friend's  wedding  soon  after 
this  exhibition  was  over,  and  see  Benners  tossed  over 
board. 

"What  do  you  think  of  them?"  said  Mr.  Came 
ron  to  the  Captain. 

"  Good  enough,  for  a  woman,  "  growled  the  Cap 
tain. 

"  There  is  a  look  of  Ola,  in  that,  "  thought  Mr. 
Cameron,  gazing  intently  at  the  same  canvas  that 
had  attracted  the  attention  of  Joe.  "  If  it  doesn't  go 
too  high  at  the  sale,  I  must  buy  it."  Then  both  he 
and  the  Captain  passed  on. 

Will  Fallen,  well  clothed  and  gentlemanly  look 
ing,  scrutinized  each  of  the  Ola  Del  pictures.  "  She 

234 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

has  improved  wonderfully,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Pity 
she  can't  go  to  Europe."  Then  he  came  to  the  white- 
robed  woman,  gazing  at  the  stars.  "  Ah,  here  my 
dainty,  patrician  wife,  who  pays  tribute  rather  than 
acknowledge  a  '  prison  bird, '  has  idealized  herself.  I 
must  have  that  picture  at  the  sale.  How  fortunate 
that  I  won  a  fat  wad  at  faro  last  night.  The  Devil  is 
good  to  his  own.  " 

Mr.  York  also  halted  before  this  picture,  and  said, 
"I  wonder  if  it  is  in  my  imagination?"  Then  he 
went  up  to  Joe  and  asked,  "  Have  you  everything  ar 
ranged?"  In  all  the  years  that  Joe  had  been  with 
his  master,  such  an  insinuation  against  his  compre 
hension  and  fidelity  had  never  before  been  made.  The 
man  really  thought  seriously  of  resigning;  but  he  just 
nodded  and  kept  silent.  Then  the  "  Prince  "  walked 
on. 

Lieutenant  Adrian  Benners  balanced  himself 
against  the  waves  that  did  not  rock  the  rooms  of  the 
exhibit,  and  looked  proudly  at  those  pictures  which 
had  received  such  long  and  friendly  notice  from  the 
critics.  It  really  made  him  feel  good  all  over  to  think 
that  he  and  he  alone  had  the  love  of  the  woman  who 
painted  them.  When  he  came  to  the  one  which  had 
seemed  to  give  pause  to  all  of  the  others,  he  inwardly 
apostrophized,  "Many  a  time  have  I  pulled  all  of  the 
pins  out  of  that  black  hair,  and  tied  your  own  hands 
with  it,  you  dear  girl.  That  drapery  which  conceals, 
reveals  more  to  my  eyes  that  it  could  to  another. 
How  fortunate  that  a  pay-day  comes  between  this 
and  the  time  of  the  auction.  I  must  have  that.  " 

235 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

The  "  Banker "  minced  along,  with  his  toes 
turned  in.  "  What  a  waste  of  the  time  of  a  lovely 
woman  who  might  be  an  ornament  to  my  home.  " 

Then,  suddenly,  his  attention  was  fixed.  With  his 
perfumed  handkerchief  he  wiped  off  his  glasses,  al 
most  turned  out  his  toes,  and  said:  "I  haven't  much 
use  for  pictures,  generally  speaking;  but  gad!  there 
is  a  look  in  that  face  that  reminds  me  of  her.  I  must 
make  a  memorandum  of  the  number  and  put  in  a  bid 
for  it.  I  don't  suppose  it  will  bring  more  than  a  hun 
dred  dollars,  at  the  most.  " 

He  wrote  the  number  in  his  note  book,  made  a 
memorandum  of  his  intentions  and  passed  on. 

Ola's  old  master  strolled  through  the  rooms.  He 
was  proud  of  her  work.  When  he  came  to  the  star 
gazing  woman,  he  remarked,  "  That's  the  poorest  piece 
she  has.  I  did  not  want  her  to  put  it  on  exhibition.  " 
Then  he  found  a  dozen  faults  or  so  with  it,  and 
walked  on. 

'  The  star-gazing  woman  '  was  among  the  first  of 
Ola's  pictures  to  be  sold ;  and  at  first,  Mr.  Cameron 
and  Lieutenant  Benners  seemed  to  have  the  field.  At 
length  Mr.  Cameron,  who  was  a  better  hand  at  saving 
money  than  the  Lieutenant,  bid  beyond  the  Lieuten 
ant's  monthly  salary  and  what  he  thought  he  could 
count  upon  borrowing  from  Lewes,  until  the  next  pay 
day;  so  the  Lieutenant  dropped  out,  and  Mr.  Cameron 
thought  the  picture  was  going  to  be  knocked  down  to 
him.  Just  on  the  third  and  last  call,  however,  one  of  the 
art  dealers  put  in  a  bid  of  a  few  dollars  more.  (Cam 
eron  was  no  coward;  he  came  back  to  the  fray,  and 

236 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

bid  against  the  art  dealer  until  he  had  reached  the 
limit  of  his  savings ;  then  he  dropped  out,  feeling 
glad  that  Benners  did  not  get  it,  and  holding  almost 
a  personal  spite  against  the  dealer.  When  Cameron, 
therefore,  saw  Will  Fallen  bid  against  the  dealer,  al 
though  he  had  no  idea  who  the  man  was,  he  felt  al 
most  like  shaking  Fallon's  hand.  Fallen  and  the 
dealer  had  it  to  themselves  for  a  while,  but  Fallen 
apparently  went  beyond  Joe's  limit,  for  the  art  dealer 
dropped  out. 

"  Nine  hundred  dollars, "  shouted  the  auctioneer. 
"  Third  and  last—" 

"  Nine  hundred  and  fifty,  "  said  Joe  softly,  just  at 
the  auctioneer's  elbow. 

Joe  and  Fallon  had  it  for  a  time  all  to  themselves. 
But  the  twelve  hundred  mark  "  used  up "  Fallon's 
"  pile,  "  as  he  expressed  it. 

"  It  would  do  my  soul  good  to  use  that  juvenile 
patriarch's  bald  head  as  a  foot  ball, "  said  Fallon  as 
he  retired  from  the  list  of  competitors. 

Then  Joe  had  a  bout  with  the  "  Banker.  " 

Mr.  York  stood  by  with  a  pleased  expression  in 
his  blue  eyes,  and  said  to  himself:  "  You're  getting  a 
lot  of  money,  ain't  you  'Baby?'  If  they  all  go  like 
this  one,  I  will  be  as  poor  at  the  end  of  this  sale,  as 
I  was  the  day  I  gave  you  that  commission  on  the 
Harlem  land.  I  borrowed  my  supper  money  that 
night  of  the  old  missionary.  Well,  never  mind;  I 
can  borrow  of  him  again. " 

Joe  and  the  "  Banker "  had  got  the  picture  up 
to  two  thousand  dollars.  The  "  Prince's "  practiced 

237 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

eye  saw  signs  that  the  "  Banker  "  was  "  exhausting 
himself.  "  Unlike  all  the  rest,  he  felt  sorry  to  see  the 
man  retire  from  the  contest.  Harold  York  never  for 
one  moment  thought  of  the  fact  that  his  own  money 
would  have  to  settle  the  bill.  He  enjoyed  the  sport, 
and  it  would  please  his  darling.  That  was  what  he 
thought  about. 

After  Joe's  bid  of  two  thousand  dollars  was  called 
by  the  auctioneer,  the  "  Banker  "  turned  away,  say 
ing:  "  Gad,  he  wants  it  worse  than  I  do.  I  wouldn't 
give  two  thousand  dollars  for  a  picture  as  big  as  the 
side  of  Trinity  Church.  " 

This  genuine  enthusiasm,  which  was  not  due  to 
artistic  merit,  but  entirely  to  a  personal  feeling,  affect 
ed  the  entire  sale.  Her  old  master,  though  pleased, 
said,  "  Well,  well.  No  one  can  ever  account  for  what 
the  public  will  do.  " 

The  "  Pirate "  rubbed  his  big  hands,  and  his 
blotched  old  face  grew  redder.  The  whole  business 
was  as  much  of  a  surprise  to  him  as  it  was  to  any 
body  else,  except  those  in  the  "  Prince's "  employ. 
But  he  would  brag  to  Ola,  and  everybody  else  he 
knew,  that  her  pictures  had  all,  every  one  of  them, 
been  sold  to  his  wealthy  patrons,  and  he  would  claim 
his  reward.  This  he  did,  but  like  almost  all  petty 
rascals,  he  did  not  calculate  finely  enough. 

In  reply  to  his  bragging,  and  his  claiming  his 
reward,  she  said,  "  Give  me  a  little  time  to  rest.  Do 
you  say  they  were  all  sold  to  your  patrons?" 

"  Yes,  all,  "  said  the  "  Pirate.  "  Lies  cost  nothing, 
hence  he  was  generous. 

238 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"Very  well,  who  bought  number  thirty-five?  It 
was  one  of  the  best  things  on  exhibition,  and  it  sold 
for  about  the  least  of  any  of  them.  I  should  like  to 
buy  it  of  the  owner.  " 

The  "  Pirate's  "  face  grew  red  and  he  rubbed  his 
hands.  "  He  couldn't  just  tell  at  that  moment.  He 
would  have  to  look  over  his  books. " 

In  his  own  mind  the  scoundrel  counted  upon  find 
ing  out  from  the  auctioneer.  The  name  on  the  books 
was  that  of  a  well  known  art  dealer,  who  told  the 
"  Pirate  "  he  had  bid  the  picture  in  on  a  cash  deposit 
order  from  a  stranger.  "Who?"  He  hadn't  the 
slightest  idea.  There  the  matter  must  rest;  but  Ola 
was  no  business  woman,  no  one  knew  that  better  than 
he  did.  She  had  never  asked  him  a  single  question 
about  any  transaction  he  had  ever  made  for  her.  After 
she  should  have  quite  forgotten  about  number  thirty- 
five,  he  would  renew  the  attack  upon  her  to  marry 
him. 

Mr.  Cameron  came  to  Ola  and  told  her  of  his 
love  for  her  and  his  desire  to  marry  her.  She  put  her 
hands  in  his  and  said,  "  Mr.  Cameron,  no  man  is  more 
worthy  of  the  love  of  a  good  woman  than  you  are.  I 
am  not  a  good  woman.  I  doubt  if  any  ambious  woman 
is  good ;  but,  as  bad  as  I  am,  I  am  too  good  to  deceive 
you.  The  truth  is,  my  friend,  I  cannot  marry  you.  I 
could  not  marry  any  good  man.  " 


239 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 
"  And  God  made  man  in  his  own  image  and  likeness." 

By  dint  of  his  talents  in  the  detective  line,  Will 
Fallon  kept  himself  well  posted  as  to  what  his  wife 
was  doing.  When  he  knew  the  "  Prince  "  was  her 
patron,  he  had  tried  to  frighten  her  into  increasing 
his  allowance,  but  she  told  him,  most  emphatically, 
that  she  would  let  him  kill  her  first.  After  the  sale  of 
her  pictures,  which  had  brought  a  price  that  astonished 
her,  and  everybody  else,  he  began  to  demand  an  in 
terview  with  her.  The  real  object  of  this  interview 
was  to  get  money  from  her;  but  to  one  person, 
the  "  Pirate, "  he  pretended  something  quite  different. 
Fallon  had  shadowed  the  "  Pirate  "  from  Ola's  home 
to  the  store  on  the  Bowery,  and  from  the  old  miser 
he  learned  of  his  (the  "  Pirate's  ")  wish  to  marry  Ola. 
This  ambition  on  the  "  Pirate's  "  part  amused  Fallon 
immensely;  but  he  assumed  a  sympathy  with  the  old 
man,  and  told  him  that  he  could  and  would  help  him 
to  get  her. 

Wonders  never  cease.  Fallon  actually  borrowed, 
a  few  dollars  at  a  time,  considerable  money  from  the 
old  man.  But  this  state  of  affairs  could  not  last  for 
ever.  The  "  Pirate  "  began  to  demand  the  delivery  of 
the  goods,  in  somewhat  emphatic  terms.  Then  Fallon 
prepared  his  "  coup  de  theatre "  by  urging  Ola  to 
come  to  his  rooms  and  see  him.  He  wrote :  "  You 

240 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

have  so  many  satellites,  having  now  become  the  talk 
of  the  town,  that  it  is  much  better  for  you  not  to 
run  the  risk  of  being  compromised  by  a  visit  from  a 
suspicious  character,  even  when,  I  might  more  prop 
erly  say,  that  man  is  your  husband." 

She  endured  the  persecution  for  a  time,  then, 
coward  like,  she  went.  Ola  knew  thoroughly  well 
that  Fallon  wanted  money;  so  she  took  nothing  with 
her,  except  a  dollar  in  change. 

Meantime  Fallon  had  arranged  to  have  the 
"  Pirate  "  arrive  in  advance  of  the  hour  set  by  Ola, 
with  the  idea  of  allowing  the  old  rascal  secretly  to 
overhear  the  conversation  between  himself  and  his 
his  wife. 

The  "  Pirate  "  arrived ;  and  Will  Fallon  threw  a 
pillow  behind  a  high-backed  sofa,  which  formed  the 
hypothenuse  of  a  right-angled  triangle,  the  walls  of 
the  room  forming  the  two  other  sides.  But  upon  the 
hypothenuse  of  that  right-angled  triangle,  was  to  be 
demonstrated  a  problem  vastly  different  from  the  cele 
brated  forty-seventh  of  Euclid. 

When  Ola  was  announced,  the  "  Pirate  "  crowded 
his  six-feet  and  more  of  length  into  that  corner,  with 
as  much  comfort  as  the  pillow  and  his  cramped  posi 
tion  would  permit.  Nothing  that  mortal  man  ever 
enjoyed  equaled  the  laugh  Fallon  took,  when  he  saw 
the  "  Pirate  "  safely  stowed  away.  In  fact,  he  could 
not  repress  his  mirth,  or  get  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
drawn  down,  by  the  time  Ola  reached  his  room. 

His  amusement  was  so  noticeable  that  she  said, 
"  Something  seems  to  have  pleased  you.  " 

241 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"  Could  I  be  otherwise  than  pleased  at  receiving 
a  visit  from  my  distinguished,  beautiful,  honored  wife?" 
and  he  tickled  himself  more  and  more,  wondering  how 
the  "  Pirate  "  enjoyed  this  surprise.  "  At  any  rate," 
thought  Fallen,  "  he  can  '  faint  and  fall  in  it '  without 
having  far  to  go." 

Ola  made  no  reply  whatever  to  this  splenetic  re 
mark.  Fallon  waved  his  hand  toward  a  chair,  and 
said,  "Will  your  majesty  deign  to  be  seated?" 

Ola  sank  down  in  the  chair  indicated,  and  Fallon 
sat  on  the  sofa  behind  which  he  had  stowed  away  the 
"  Pirate,  "  the  while  looking  at  Ola  with  an  expres 
sion  of  diabolical  admiration;  for  Fallon  was  really 
proud  of  his  wife.  He  knew  she  loathed  him,  but  she 
was  his  wife;  she  could  not  get  away  from  that.  At 
present  she  was  something  of  a  celebrity,  much 
courted  and  admired,  and  he  thought  her  pure. 
Though  Fallon  would  not  scruple  to  make  the  most 
insulting  insinuations  to  Ola  as  to  the  nature  of  her 
relations  with  one  or  more  of  the  men  who  admired 
her,  he  rather  boasted  to  himself  that  not  alone  was 
she  his  wife,  but  that  he  could  always  take  his  hat  off 
to  her. 

Determined  now  to  apply  the  torture  at  once  to 
her,  and  to  the  "  Pirate,"  he  said,  "  Really,  my  girl,  you 
do  me  proud.  You're  a  thoroughbred,  and  no  mistake. 
I  tell  you,  your  juggling  beats  that  of  the  East  India 
conjurers  all  hollow.  Here  you  are  my  most  beloved 
wife,  and  at  the  same  time  have  promised  to  marry 
that  snake-eyed,  blotched,  pustuled,  eruptioned,  vam 
pire  that  keeps  the  art  store  down  on  the  Bowery. 

242 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

What  your  relations  may  be  with  that  handsome  piece 
of  conceit  in  the  Navy,  Lieutenant  Benners,  I  presume 
you  would  hesitate  to  say.  " 

"  Having  admitted,  tacitly  or  otherwise,  that 
I  am  your  wife,  there  is  no  degradation  which  I  need 
blush  to  acknowledge.  Lieutenant  Benners  is  a  man 
of  the  world,  in  whose  dictionary  the  word  marriage 
cannot  be  found.  Naturally,  then,  the  love  he  could 
feel  for  a  woman  could  be  of  but  one  character !  We 
love  each  other.  Am  I  sufficiently  explicit,  or  would 
you  have  me  define  more  precisely.  " 

"  Not  necessary  at  all,  madam,  I  assure  you. 
With  that  little  anti-sacramental  naval  contract  of 
yours,  our  marriage  need  not  interfere.  How  about 
the  others?  May  I  ask  if  you  contemplate  doing 
a  little  Lucretia  Borgia  business  in  order  to  wed  your 
Adonis  on  the  Bowery?" 

"  I  might  possibly  be  found  equal  to  the  task, 
if  the  game  were  worth  the  candle.  As  it  is  not,  you 
can  draw  your  weekly  allowance,  gamble  it  off  or  go  to 
bed  and  sleep,  as  you  like.  I  shall  not  poison  you.  Wha^ 
an  honor  you  are  to  the  Church  of  Rome  and  the  Irish 
nation !"  said  Ola,  and  the  disgust  of  her  whole  soul 
was  in  her  words. 

"  'Tis  slight,  madam,  slight  indeed,  compared 
to  the  lustre  you  reflect  upon  atheism,  femininity,  and 
the  American  nation.  I  am  proud  to  yield  precedence 
to  my  wife.  With  pardonable  vanity  I  acknowledge 
her  superiority  in  all  things.  " 

Fallon  was  exceedingly  uncomfortable.  He  had 
intended  to  get  an  acknowledgement  from  Ola  that 

243 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

she  was  his  wife,  and  thus  send  the  old  "  Pirate  "  off, 
after  having  told  him  that  he  could  steal  a  greater 
sum  from  future  pictures  sold  for  Ola,  in  order  to  even 
up  on  the  debt;  but,  all  to  his  dismay,  he  found  the 
tables  turned  upon  himself;  found  that  the  "Pirate"' 
had  the  right  to  point  the  finger  of  shame  at  him ;  and 
he  felt  downright  angry  at  Ola  for  putting  him  in  this 
fix. 

"  May  I  ask  you  how  you  expect  to  make  good 
your  promise  to  marry  your  Bowery  Apollo, 
madam?  " 

"  You  may  ask  me  nothing.  Have  an  end  to  this 
talk.  What  do  you  want?" 

At  this  moment  a  movement  behind  the  sofa  at 
tracted  Ola's  attention.  It  was  too  pronounced  to 
be  ignored,  so  Will  Fallon  arose  from  his  seat,  rolled 
the  sofa  around,  and  said :  "  Come  out,  Lothario,  and 
plead  your  own  cause. " 

The  "  Pirate  "  scrambled  to  his  feet  as  best  he 
could ;  his  blotched  and  blistered  face  took  on  a  deeper 
vermilion  hue,  but  he  could  seemingly  find  no  words 
to  say. 

Ola  looked  first  at  him,  then  at  Fallon.  She  felt 
that  words  could  not  express  her  disgust.  Raising  her 
hands,  as  if  to  pray  after  the  manner  of  the  ancient 
sun  worshippers,  she  said,  "  And  God  made  man  in 
his  own  image  and  likeness.  Let  us  praise  His  holy 
name.  I  am  now  consoled  that  I  am  not  a  man.  I 
now  rejoice  that  I  am  a  woman. "  Then  to  the 
"  Pirate, "  "You  have  heard  what  he  said.  You  know 
he  is  my  husband;  but  don't  let  that  discourage  you. 

244 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

He  will  die  soon.  There  is  no  doubt  of  it.  Such  men 
as  he,  always  die, "  and  she  laughed  mockingly, 
bitterly. 

"  There  is  no  occasion  for  that,  old  man.  I  told 
you  I  could  give  her  to  you,  and  now  I  tell  you,  if 
you  want  her,  I  will.  Don't  ask  me  how;  there  is 
no  need,  but  simply  tell  me  if  you  wish  to  marry  her," 
said  Fallen,  and  he  looked  keenly  at  the  "  Pirate.  *' 
Ola  was  also  watching  and  listening. 

"  Yes,  I"  want  her  for  my  wife, "  said  the 
"  Pirate, "  and  with  his  snaky,  lecherous  eyes,  he  de 
voured  her. 

Will  Fallen  was  about  to  speak,  when  Ola  raised 
her  hand  and  said  sternly,  "  Stop  a  moment,"  then  to 
the  "  Pirate :"  "  There  is  a  man,  whose  name 
it  would  be  a  profanation,  a  sacrilege,  a 
blasphemy,  to  mention  within  these  walls;  but 
to  that  man,  who  is  a  very  prince  among  men,  I 
am  under  every  possible  obligation  his  pure  love 
could  bestow  upon  me.  So  much  of  veneration  and 
worship  is  there  in  my  love,  that  I  can  scarce  think 
of  him  as  a  human  being,  as  a  man ;  but  rather  as  one 
privileged  by  some  power  omnipotent,  to  live  above 
the  level  of  humanity.  I  would  give  my  life  to  be 
what  that  man  thinks  I  am.  He,  also,  wants  to  marry 
me.  But  if  that  creature,"  and  she  pointed  to  Fallen, 
"were  dead,  and  turned  to  dust,  I  would  not  marry 
him,  because  of  Lieutenant  Benners"  and  she  lowered 
her  voice  to  the  most  mournful  cadence.  "  If  I  dare 
not  trust  myself,  dare  not  hope  I  could  be  true  to  this 
one,  off  whose  boots  you  are  not  worthy  to  scrape 

245 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

the  mud,  be  very  sure  I  would  not  be  to  you.  Will  you 
marry  me,  and  share  me  with  Lieutenant  Benners, 
provided  he  will  give  me  to  you?"  said  Ola,  looking 
at  Fallen  with  all  the  scorn  and  disgust  she  could 
summon  into  voice  and  gesture. 

The  "  Pirate  "  bowed  his  head  in  token  of  his 
desire  to  have  her  in  any  way.  And  Will  Fallen 
laughed.  "  Who  would  not  be  puffed  up  with  pride, 
at  having  a  wife  so  much  in  demand?  I  wonder  which 
one  of  you  will  bid  the  highest,  you  or  York?  Make 
your  offer  to-night,  and  I'll  get  his  to-morrow.  " 

"  Hush, "  said  Ola,  fiercely,  addressing  Fallen. 
"  The  one  frail  thread  that  links  my  soul  to  Heaven, 
the  one  hope  I  have  for  my  own.  ultimate  salvation, 
and  redemption,  is  Harold  York's  love  for  me.  If  one 
word  of  what  has  passed  here  to-day  ever  comes 
to  his  ears,  I  shall  hold  you  responsible  for  it.  If  he 
ever  learns  of  Lieutenant  Benners,  if  he  were  to  know 
I  have  bartered  with  that  creature, "  and  she  pointed 
to  the  "  Pirate, "  "  he  would  die  of  a  broken  heart.  I 
love  Harold  York.  I  love  him  with  every  good  sen 
timent  there  is  within  me.  I  shall  not  give  him  up. 
There  is  one  thing  that  will  bind  you  to  silence, 
Fallen,  and  that  is  money.  If  you  lisp  one  syllable  to 
Mr.  York,  I  shall  then  be  free.  There  would  be  no 
possible  incentive  for  me  to  shrink  from  all  the  pub 
licity  the  scandal  mongers  could  wish,  and  I  should 
accept  the  disgrace,  rather  than  give  you  another  cent. 
You  shall  not,  through  me,  strike  the  one  noble  man 
I  have  ever  known.  " 

"  Ah,  rot !  "  said  Fallon,  "  give  me  a  rest  on  your 
246 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

melodrama.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  nobility  in 
man.  They  are  all  just  alike,  except  that  some  are 
cleaner  than  others.  " 

"  Yes,  cleaner — in  morals  especially,  "  said  Ola. 

"  This  little  demi-god  of  yours,  who  does  a  bank 
ing  business  on  Wall  Street,  has  got  the  big  head, 
that's  all  that  ails  him.  " 

Ola  looked  at  Fallen  inquiringly,  but  said  noth 
ing.  He  understood  the  look,  and  went  on. 

"  You  stuffed  him  with  these  two  conceits — he 
was  a  disinterested,  generous,  unselfish,  high-minded, 
chivalrous,  sublime  hero ;  you  were  a  guiltless,  blame 
less,  immaculate,  little  lamb.  You  in  your  icily  affec 
tionate,  keep-at-your-distance  way,  stuffed  the  man 
chock  full  of  these  ideas.  His  noddle  isn't -capable  of 
holding  more  than  three  things :  he  must  always  strut 
before  you,  trailing  the  purple  of  royalty  with  which 
you  have  invested  him ;  he  must  make  money ;  and  he 
must  fold  that  immaculate  little  lamb  in  his  arms,  and 
carry  it  over  all  the  rough  places  of  life.  What's  that 
but  conceit?  Simon-pure,  at  that.  "  You  wanted  to  be 
famous.  He  swore  by  all  the  bulls  and  bears  on 
Wall  Street  that  you  should  be.  He  hired  masters  for 
you,  and  you  went  to  work;  your  pictures  were  ready 
for  the  exhibition.  They  attracted  a  goodly  share  of 
public  notice — are  critics  don't  come  so  very  high. 
Your  pictures  were  sold  at  public  auction,  and 
brought  prices  which  amazed  everybody,  except  the 
interested  and  initiated  few.  I  was  there,  and  I 
noticed  that  two  or  three  well-known  dealers  in  art 
were  animated  bidders.  If  no  outsider  entered  the  con- 

247 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

test,  the  pictures  were  knocked  down  to  one  or  the 
other  of  these ;  but  if  an  unknown  man  bid,  then  a  fat, 
bald-headed,  off-color-diamond-bedecked  individual 
seemingly  with  orders  to  buy,  price  unlimited,  got 
the  picture  knocked  down  to  him.  This  fat,  dark, 
bald-headed,  off-color-diamond-bedecked  individual, 
is  Joe,  Harold  York's  confidential  man,  and  at  this 
moment,  every  one  of  those  pictures  hangs  on  the  walls 
of  York's  bachelor  apartments.  " 

Ola  looked  at  the  "  Pirate,"  wondering  if  there 
is  any  limit  to  the  duplicity  and  fraud  a  man  will  prac 
tice  on  a  woman.  "  So,  Mr.  York  was  your  customer, 
was  he  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Mr.  York  was  not  that  reprobate's  customer ;  he 
was  York's  tool,  hired,  like  the  others,  by  Joe,  to  bull 
the  market  on  the  Ola  Del  pictures, "  said  Fallon. 
"  Oh,  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about.  There 
was  one  of  those  pictures,  a  woman  in  a  thin  night 
dress  which  clung  and  nestled  here  and  there — and  I 
don't  blame  it.  This  woman  was  standing  by  an  open 
window  at  night  looking  up  at  the  stars.  A  wealth  of 
long,  black,  wavy  hair  hung  down  her  back.  That  was 
well  done,  Ola.  The  likeness  was  suggestive,  but 
not  pronounced.  Under  this  picture  was  written : 
'  They  dwell  in  the  stars — our  beloved  dead. '  I 
wanted  that  bit  of  canvas.  It  would  have  been  more 
to  me  than  it  could  have  been  to  anybody  else.  I 
had  been  playing  in  pretty  good  luck  the  night  before, 
and  I  bid  on  it,  up  to  the  last  cent  I  had  and  what  I 
thought  I  could  get  on  my  jewelry;  but  York  was 
too  well  heeled  for  me — he  got  it.  I  even  tried  to  buy 

248 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

it  afterwards,  by  representing  myself  as  an  English 
nobleman  of  boundless  wealth,  but  York  shut  me  up, 
by  saying  that  the  picture  was  not  for  sale  at  any 
price,  nor  to  any  person,  not  even  a  king.  " 

And  Fallen  sighed  regretfully.  His  better-self 
was  moved  by  the  memory  of  the  old,  happy  days, 
when  Ola  had  loved  him  and  respected  him.  To  that 
very  love  for  Ola,  was  the  greater  part  of  Fallen's 
sins  attributable.  He  had  really  loved  her,  had 
recognized  and  acknowledged  to  himself  her  superior 
ity.  He  wanted  to  give  his  wife  all  the  luxuries  to 
which  she  had  been  accustomed.  He  could  not  do 
it  honestly;  the  gambler  spirit  within  him  warped  his 
judgment;  he  took  the  money  of  others  to  speculate 
with,  and  lost;  was  imprisoned;  hence  he  was  a  thief. 
Had  he  won,  he  would  have  been  pointed  out  as  a 
young  Napoleon  of  Finance;  his  wife  would  have 
loved,  and  better  yet,  she  would  have  respected  him — 
they  would  have  been  happy. 

On  mere  chance,  the  happiness  of  millions  of  peo 
ple  rests.  That  cardinal  dishonesty  which  is  the 
groundwork  of  the  gambler's  character  was  within 
Fallen;  success  could  not  have  changed  that  to  the 
nobler  sentiment  which  finds  satisfaction  in  giving 
value  for  value;  but  the  approbation  of  the  world 
would  have  enabled  him  to  hold  up  his  head,  and 
he  would 'not  have  fallen  into  the  deeper  degradation 
of  living  on  his  wife. 

Ola  went  away  and  left  Fallon  and  the  "  Pirate" 
together.  Fallon  succeeded  in  borrowing  some  money 
of  the  old  man,  upon  his  promise  to  get  a  divorce  from 

249 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

her.  He  told  the  "  Pirate  "  that  Ola's  talk  about  Lieu 
tenant  Benners  was  mere  lying  brag,  intended  to 
wound  her  husband  (and  both  Fallen  and  the 
"  Pirate"  believed  this),  but  that  it  would  serve  their 
purpose  to  get  the  divorce  on. 

The  old  miser  hated  to  let  his  money  go,  but 
he  wanted  the  woman,  and  he  estimated  that  he  was 
still  a  trifle  ahead  on  the  sale  of  her  pictures — so 
he  was  not  actually  out  of  pocket.  His  time  he  would 
consider  paid  for,  in  that  he  had  seen  and  talked  to 
Ola  occasionally. 

The  "  Pirate  "  went  away  and  left  Fallon  to  his 
speculations  as  to  where  he  could  find  a  victim  to  rob 
at  cards  that  night.  He  remembered  he  had 
even  forgotten  to  ask  Ola  for  money,  but  never 
mind ;  he  had  been  rather  lucky  of  late,  perhaps  he 
could  catch  that  young  star  to-night  after  the  per 
formance,  and  work  both  the  "glass"  and  the  "  lizard  " 
on  him. 

As  Ola  passed  into  the  open  air  to  go  home, 
she  felt  a  sensation  of  relief.  The  atmosphere  in  Fal 
lon 's  room  was  heavy  with  perfume ;  this  had  given 
her  nausea;  perfumes  always  did.  There  had  come  a 
thaw,  followed  by  a  sudden  freezing,  and  the 
streets  were  as  slippery  as  glass.  She  went 
home,  but  could  not  content  herself.  In  the  evening 
Jack  and  Nell  went  out,  so  she  would  in  all  probability 
be  alone.  She  felt  little  inclined  to  endure  her 
own  thoughts,  and  about  as  little  to  seeing  any  one 
who  was  likely  to  call.  She  half  expected 
Lieutenant  Benners,  as  it  was  about  time  for  the 

250 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  Grant "  to  return  to  New  York,  but  he  could  come 
some  other  time,  she  thought. 

She  decided  to  go  and  make  "  Bronze  "  a  visit. 
She  had  seen  little  of  "  Bronze  "  since  the  latter  took 
up  housekeeping  on  her  own  account.  Ola  had  been 
busy,  and  "  Bronze "  was  always  surrounded  by  a 
coterie  of  admirers  and  idlers,  not  always  over  con 
genial  to  Ola's  taste.  When  she  reached  the  flat,  Ola 
found  "  Bronze  "  at  home,  and,  for  a  wonder,  alone. 
The  two  women  talked.  "  Bronze "  expressed  her 
happiness  at  Ola's  prosperity,  and  asked  her  when 
she  was  going  to  be  married  to  the  "  Prince.  " 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  marry  any  body,  '  Bronze,  * 
least  of  all,  Mr.  York,"  said  Ola. 

"  Why  not?  "  said  "  Bronze.  " 

"  I  don't  know, "  said  Ola. 

"  Bronze "  thought  her  friend  did  not  seem  to 
warm  up  much  on  matrimony,  so  they  dropped  the 
subject  and  chatted  about  "  Bronze's  "  admirers,  al 
ways  a  topic  of  interest  without  end  for  the  girl. 
She  told  Ola  of  all  her  recent  conquests,  and  the  time 
passed  pleasantly  enough  for  an  half  hour,  when  the 
bell  rang.  There  was  nothing  in  that,  for  "  Bronze  " 
was  seldom  alone,  even  for  an  evening.  "  Bronze  " 
kept  no  servant;  she  was  out  so  often  to  dinner  and 
lunch  it  was  scarcely  necessary.  So  now  that  the 
bell  rang,  she  was  obliged  to  go  to  the  door. 

"  You  dear  girl,  I  am  so  glad  you  are  at  home. 
We  just  got  in.  " 

A  hearty  smack,  a  woman's  happy  laugh, 
and  "  Bronze  "  and  Lieutenant  Benners  walked  into 

251 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

the  room.  A  gesture  or  a  look  from  "  Bronze  "  at 
the  hall  door  would  have  saved  the  Lieutenant  from 
committing  himself;  but  it  would  have  deprived 
"  Bronze  "  of  the  happiness  of  letting  Ola  know  her 
lover  was  false  to  her ;  and  "  Bronze "  was  scarce 
equal  to  the  self  sacrifice  requisite.  Ola  arose  and 
greeted  the  Lieutenant  more  than  cordially.  "  Bronze" 
should  not  have  the  satisfaction  of  witnessing  another 
exhibition  of  temper  from  her.  With  more  than  her 
usual  vivacity,  she  launched  into  conversation.  Later 
on  Captain  Gordon  called.  The  Captain  was  quiet  and 
had  little  to  say.  "  Bronze  "  led  him  to  infer  that 
Ola  and  the  Lieutenant  had  called  together  and  Ola, 
knowing  the  Captain  loved  "  Bronze, "  and  was  ever 
tormented  by  his  jealousies,  lent  herself  to  this  little 
fraud.  Accordingly  when  it  was  near  eleven  and  she 
rose  to  go,  the  Lieutenant  rose  with  her.  Each  was 
master  of  the  situation.  No  word  betrayed  that  the 
Lieutenant  had  not  really  been  her  escort  and 
they  made  their  adieus  with  such  easy  amiability 
all  round,  that  no  one  would  have  dreamed  any 
thing  extraordinary  had  happened.  The  Captain 
relieved  in  his  mind  as  to  the  Lieutenant's  footing  as 
a  rival,  was  delighted  at  being  left  in  possession  of' 
the  field,  and  "  Bronze  "  was  astonished  and  piqued 
at  Ola's  apparent  indifference  to  the  Lieutenant's  pres 
ence  there. 

Ola  and  the  Lieutenant  after  a  laughing  exit,  de 
scended  the  stairs  in  silence.  On  the  steps  into  the 
street  she  turned  and  faced  him. 

"  We  are  alone  here,  I  shall  detain  you  but  a 
252 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

moment.  No  word  from  you  could  make  matters  any 
better,  so  spare  yourself  the  trouble  of  speaking.  From 
this  hour  you  must  go  out  of  my  life.  Of  course,  at 
present,  I  am  angry  with  you.  But  I  do  not  deceive 
myself.  I  know  the  dominion  you  have  over  me. 
The  crimes  I  have  already  committed  against  my  own 
self-respect,  and  against  those  who  love  me,  leave 
me  no  hope  that  I  could  do  better  in  future.  For 
some  reason  which  I  do  not  understand,  I  am  your 
slave  when  you  are  with  me,  but  I  can  think  and  act 
sanely  enough  when  you  are  not  around.  Should  you, 
by  giving  me  time  to  cool  off,  come  back  to  me,  and 
put  your  arms  around  me,  and  talk  to  me,  I  should 
fall  again,  and  I  know  it.  But  do  not  attempt  it;  for 
as  sure  as  I  live  to  see  one  sane  hour  after  that  de 
lirium  with  which  you  always  charge  me  has  passed 
away,  I  shall  put  it  beyond  your  power  to  make  me 
suffer  more  shame,  by  severing  my  jugular  vein,  with 
the  little  pen-knife  you  gave  me.  I  mean  exactly  what 
I  say.  You  can  conquer  me,  that  I  know,  but  I  can 
and  shall  do  what  I  tell  you.  Be  warned;  my  death 
would  surely  disgrace  you.  There  are  plenty  of 
women  in  the  world,  and  you  are  easy  to  please;  go 
forth  and  make  your  conquests.  "  . 

Her  teeth  chattered,  and  her  face  was  white  with 
anger.  She  stepped  down  from  the  stone  steps,  and 
walked  away  from  him.  The  earnestness  of  her 
speech  and  manner  had  carried  conviction  with  it.  In 
that  moment,  the  Lieutenant  realized  she  was  lost  to 
him  forever,  that  all  was  indeed  over  between  them. 

Did  he  feel  any  remorse  for  his  duplicity?  Not 
253 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

the  least;  but  he  damned  his  luck.  There  was  a  sense 
of  satisfaction  in  the  knowledge  that  he  controlled  her, 
when  nobody  else  could.  '  Ah !  well,  there  were 
plenty  of  women  in  this  world,  and  there  was  not  a 
great  deal  of  difference  in  them  after  all.  Cameron 
was  out  of  the  list,  that  was  one  consolation,'  thought 
Lieutenant  Benners  as  he  wended  his  way  back  to  the 
"  Grant.  " 

"  There  is  nothing  left  me  now  but  cold,  cold, 
work,  absorbing  ambition,  and  death,"  said  Ola,  as 
she  entered  her  little  home. 


254 


CHAPTER     XXIV. 
The  glass,  the  lizard  and   the  paster. 

That  same  slippery,  stormy  night  in  the  beginning 
of  February  upon  which  Ola  had  gone  to  visit 
"  Bronze,  "  Will  Fallen  started  out  in  quest  of  a  vic 
tim.  There  were  certain  things  about  Fallen  which 
contributed  greatly  to  his  success.  First,  he  main 
tained  a  show  of  being  a  bread-winner  by  leaving 
around  in  various  places,  cards  requesting  expert 
book-keeping  jobs.  Second,  he  was,  to  the  superficial 
observer,  a  gentleman.  Third,  he  kept  himself  well 
informed  on  current  events  and  topics  of  general  in 
terest.  Fourth,  he  was  always  neatly  and  tastefully 
dressed. 

Fallon  was  visionary  enough  to  believe  he  would 
"make  his  pile"  some  night;  and  actors  were  his 
favorite  victims. 

He  spent  hours  and  hours  alone  in  his  room, 
practicing  with  all  the  various  cheating  machinery, 
invented  for  the  use  of  gamblers  of  which  he  had 
ever  heard. 

It  is  said  these  appliances  cannot  be  used  with 
great  success  by  one  gambler  on  another.  It  is  also 
said  that  gamblers  consider  it,  at  best,  but  a  waste  of 
time  to  play  with  one  another.  As  to  the  principles 
of  the  sporting  fraternity  in  general,  our  knowledge — 

255 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

as  we  are  respectable — is  necessarily  limited;  but  as 
to  Will  Fallen,  we  know  everything. 

There  were  a  number  of  tricks  in  which  Fall  >n 
was  ambitious  to  achieve  perfection.  One  was  the 
management  of  a  little  machine  known  as  the  "lizard. ' 
This  was  actually  a  small,  metallic  lizard,  worn 
under  the  shirt  sleeve  and  fastened  by  straps 
and  buckles  to  the  body.  By  pressing  the  arm  against 
the  side,  a  spring  was  acted  upon,  the  lizard  crawled 
gently  down  the  arm,  took  a  card  in  its  mouth,  and, 
the  pressure  on  the  spring  being  removed,  ran  home 
again. 

Another  trick  which  Fallen  practiced  faithfully 
was  to  paste  a  thin  diamond  spot  on  the  seven  of 
diamonds,  thus  making  that  same  seven  an  eight. 

One  added  to  seven,  undeviatingly  does  make 
eight;  and  it  is  usually  quite  easy  to  add  the  one  to 
the  seven ;  it  becomes,  generally  speaking,  exceedingly 
easy  when  you  have  the  seven,  and  can  get  the  one. 
But  this  was  an  exceptional  case.  Fallon  had  both 
the  seven  and  the  one,  and  yet,  to  produce  a  satis 
factory  eight  was  not  so  easy  as  might  be  imagined. 

The  work  must  be  done  quickly,  but  not  so  hur 
riedly  as  to  cause  the  requisite  movement  to  attract 
attention.  The  spurious  diamond  must  be  put  down 
in  exactly  the  right  spot,  at  the  first  attempt;  for  the 
surface  of  the  card  must  not  be  smeared  with  the 
soap  or  paste  which  has  been  used  to  stick  it  on. 
All  of  which  manipulations  require  practice  and 
patience. 

But  that  which  most  troubled  Fallon,  was  to 
256 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

learn  the  use  of  "  the  glass. "  "  The  glass, "  is  a 
small  mirror,  about  the  size  of  a  silver  ten-cent  piece, 
and  is  used  by  sticking  it  on  the  left  hand,  at  the  root 
of  the  third  ringer,  and,  when  dealing  the  cards,  draw 
ing  them  slightly  back,  so  that  the  indicator  will  be 
reflected  in  the  mirror.  There  is  a  small  figure  in  the 
corner  of  most  playing  cards  which  is  called  an  in 
dicator,  as  it  indicates  or  tells  the  suit  and  value  of 
the  card.  It  was  such  cards  that  Fallon  used;  and 
that  little  figure  was  what  he  wanted  to  see  and  re 
member.  But  it  takes  no  inconsiderable  amount  of 
practice  in  this  trick  to  make  it  of  any  service,  so  far 
as  winning  money  is  concerned. 

Fallon  once  told  an  intimate  acquaintance  that 
he  had  known  gamblers — men  whom  the  "  sporting 
fraternity  "  recognized  as  shrewd,  level-headed  men — 
who,  having  practiced  with  the  "  glass "  for  years, 
in  the  hope  of  acquiring  the  skill  to  use  it,  had  finally 
given  it  up.  He  himself  had  sufficiently  mastered  it  to 
remember  three  hands,  in  four-handed  poker.  The 
ability  to  know  what  cards  his  opponent  held,  you  will 
observe,  could  be  his,  only  at  his  own  deal ;  and  con 
sequently  upon  his  own  deal  it  was  necessary  for 
him  to  "  bet  his  big  cash. "  However,  these  four- 
handed  poker  games,  with  the  use  of  the  "  glass, " 
made  very  exhausting  work  for  Fallon,  and  he  much 
preferred  to  play  with  but  one  person,  and  to  have 
that  one  of  the  unsuspecting,  innocent  type. 

Before  he  started  out  on  that  slippery,  nasty  night 
in  the  beginning  of  February,  after  the  day  upon 
which  Ola  had  visited  him  in  the  afternoon,  he  sat 

257 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

musing  upon  his  chances.  He  finally  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  of  little  or  no  use  to  muse,  since 
he  could  neither  tell  whom  he  might  meet,  nor  yet 
"  how  much  of  the  dust  they  might  have  lying  about 
loose,"  so  he  began  to  draw  on  his  overcoat,  saying 
that  he  "  would  meander  up  the  Rialto.  " 

"  I  wonder  if  it  is  not  about  time  for  that  young 
sculptor  to  have  another  remittance  from  home.  " 

The  sculptor  of  whom  Fallon  was  thinking  was  a 
young  Italian  of  a  noble  and  moderately  wealthy 
family,  who  was  spending  the  five  years  between  his 
twenty-first  and  twenty-sixth  birthday  "  abroad,"  in 
order  to  avoid  serving  in  the  Italian  army.  The  laws 
of  Italy  required  (at  that  time,  at  least)  this  service 
of  all  her  young  men.  His  art  was  a  passion 
with  the  young  man,  not  a  necessity.  He  was 
young,  inexperienced  and  as  innocent  as  a  "  man  of 
the  world  "  of  his  age  well  could  be.  The  Italian  had 
a  high-born  scorn  for  trickery  and  deception.  He  had 
gambled  a  little  with  Fallon  and  generally  lost,  but 
that  was  not  to  be  wondered  at. 

A  few  months  before  this  slippery,  nasty  night  in 
February,  Fallon  had  caught  the  sculptor  when  he 
was  "  flush,  "  having  just  received  money  from  home, 
and,  by  the  aid  of  "  the  glass,"  without  compunc 
tion  had  robbed  the  youngster  of  his  last  cent. 
Laughing  as  he  arose  from  the  table,  the  sculptor, 
in  his  lisping,  Italian  accent  had  said  that  he  would 
have  to  wait  for  breakfast  until  his  next  allowance 
came  from  home;  which  remark,  of  course,  brought 
about  explanations. 

258 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Fallen  generously  divided  with  his  victim ;  he 
even  offered  to  return  the  entire  amount.  The 
young  man  accepted,  as  a  loan,  what  he  estimated 
would  keep  away  the  pangs  of  hunger,  until  he  could 
call  upon  those  at  home  to  pay  for  the 
luxury  of  sending  their  only  son  abroad.  Two 
or  three  times  before  the  next  remittance,  Fallen 
hunted  up  the  young  man  and  forced  money  upon 
him.  This  would  naturally  have  warded  off 
suspicion,  had  the  sculptor  been  that  way  inclined, 
which  he  was  not. 

Around  the  usual  haunts  Fallon  sauntered  on  that 
rainy,  slippery  night  in  February.  He  met  the  young 
sculptor  and  they  exchanged  the  usual  compliments 
of  the  day,  mutually  expressing  their  condemnation 
of  the  weather. 

"This  is  the  kind  of  night  to  stay  at  home,  if 
one  had  such  a  place, "  said  Fallon.  And  his  thoughts 
were  of  his  wife,  and  his  regrets  were  that  she  knew 
him  and  loathed  him. 

The  young  Italian  was  also  inclined  to  be  home 
sick.  He  thought  of  his  mother  and  his 
only  sister,  and  he  rather  envied  the  girl  that  she 
did  not  have  to  go  abroad,  in  order  to  avoid  serving 
in  the  army.  He  asked  Fallon  to  go  around  to  his 
rooms  with  him  and  they  would  there  have  a  quiet 
game  of  cards.  Fallon  demurred;  the  Italian  urged, 
insisted;  finally  they  went  away  together. 

For  a  time  after  beginning  the  great  American 
game  of  poker  all  was  well.  The  sculptor  was  per 
sistently  losing,  but  small  sums  only;  there  had  been, 

259 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

no  big  hands  out.  At  length  Fallon  dealt  the  Italian 
three  aces  and  two  kings.  To  himself  he  dealt  the 
eight  of  clubs,  the  eight  of  spades,  the  eight  of  hearts 
and  the  seven  of  diamonds ;  with  one  ace. 

Up  to  this  time  the  deal  had  been  honest  enough ; 
that  is,  Fallon  had  not  sneaked  any  cards  up  his  sleeve 
by  the  aid  of  the  lizard,  and  sneaked  them  down  again 
into  his  own  hand  when  needed.  He  had  worked  "  the 
glass,  "  on  the  young  man,  that  was  all.  It  was  get 
ting  late,  and  if  he  was  going  to  get  any  money  he 
must  do  it  soon.  Fallon  supposed  his  opponent  would 
deem  his  own  hand  more  than  average  good,  and 
would  consequently  "back  it." 

Experts  in  the  game  of  poker  must  deal  charitably 
with  the  attempts  of  an  amateur  to  give  detailed  ac 
counts  of  the  booming,  bidding-up  process  of  evolu 
tion,  by  which  a  satisfactory  climax  is  reached ;  but  it 
may  be  fair  to  suppose  that  most  of  the  men  readers 
of  this  story  already  know  more  than  enough  upon 
this  subject.  And  as  for  the  women,  it  will  be  better 
for  them  if  they  are  ignorant  and  remain  so,  extract 
ing  what  consolation  they  may  from  the  assurance  of 
the  late  Lord  Lytton  that,  "  knowledge  is  grieving." 

But,  to  return.  The  Italian  thought  that  he  would 
on  this  hand,  surely  get  back  what  he  had  lost,  and 
relying  upon  the  strength  of  the  cards  dealt  him,  "he 
raised  the  ante."  Will  Fallon  "came  in,"  and  then,  tak 
ing  some  cigars  out  of  his  pocket,  he  handed  the 
sculptor  one,  and  proposed  a  smoke.  Fallon 
did  not  wish  to  betray  any  particular  anxiety,  and 

260 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

he  had  to  get  from  his  pocket  that  little 
thin  red  diamond,  with  which  to  convert  his 
seven  spot  into  an  eight.  The  "  Cheat  "  knew  he  was 
not  "easy  "  in  this  trick,  and  he  would  not  have  dared 
try  it  on  one  less  unsuspecting  than  his  present  op 
ponent.  The  cigars  were  lit. 

"How  many  cards?"  asked  Fallon. 

"  Two,  "  answered  the  sculptor. 

Fallon  dealt  the  Italian  two  cards.  "  I  will  take 
but  one. " 

Of  course  Fallon  knew  the  sculptor  could  not 
draw  an  ace,  and  thus  hold  four  of  a  kind,  for  he  had 
the  ace  himself.  But  the  Italian  discarded  two  cards, 
so  as  to  increase  the  chances  of  drawing  another  ace. 
By  a  strange  coincidence  he  drew  two  more  kings. 
When  we  think  we  are  doing  the  best  we  can,  we 
sometimes  find  we  could  have  done  better;  had  he  dis 
carded  his  three  aces  he  would  have  had 
four  of  a  kind.  But,  of  course,  nobody 
would  have  done  that.  At  any  rate,  there  was  this 
gain — he  knew  that  Fallon  would  not  have  the  four 
kings. 

As  Fallon  did  not  get  the  eight  of  diamonds 
which  he  wanted,  there  was  nothing  left  for  him  to  do 
but  to  manufacture  one.  Well,  it  was  practice,  and 
practice  was  what  he  needed.  Between  the  puffs  of 
the  cigars,  the  "  raising, "  "  going  better, "  and  all 
that  phraseology  peculiar  to  draw-poker,  Fallon  stuck 
the  little  dummy  spot  on  the  seven  of  diamonds  and 
so  had  four  of  a  kind. 

261 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

It  was  his  intention  to  press  that  little  spring 
on  his  side,  call  down  the  lizard,  give  it  this  manu 
factured  eight  of  diamonds,  and  send  it  again  into 
winter  quarters  up  his  sleeve,  as  soon  as  he  should 
have  been  "  called  "  and  had  won  the  money. 

His  intention  was  all  right,  but  it  so  fell  out  that 
he  was  not  able  to  execute  it.  When  the  Italian  had 
put  up  his  last  cent,  and  "  called  "  Fallen's  hand,  and 
thus  earned  the  right  to  see  it,  Fallen  showed  his 
cards,  but  held  them  in  his  hand.  The  Italian  seeing 
that  he  had  lost  his  money,  attempted,  by  one  of  those 
involuntary  movements  which  mean  nothing,  but 
upon  which  sometimes  so  much  depends,  to  take 
those  four  eights  in  his  hand.  Fallon  held  them,  but 
seemingly,  idly.  The  Italian  insisted,  but  only  with 
look  and  gesture.  Of  course  Fallon  released  the 
cards. 

In  pushing  the  cards  together  to  take  them  into 
his  hand,  a  corner  of  the  pasted-down  diamond  spot, 
was  roughened  up,  and  the  Italian,  with  the  edge  of 
one  of  the  cards,  scraped  it  off  entirely.  In  an  instant, 
the  truth  flashed  upon  him.  He  was  being  robbed. 
Fallon  laughed  a  little ;  he  had  no  intention  of  getting 
into  a  row  or  contending  for  the  money.  Of  course 
he  was  caught,  and  he  would  give  up  the  stakes. 

Not  so  the  Italian.  He  was  furious.  He  jumped 
up  from  the  table  and  attempted  to  clutch  Fallon  by 
the  throat. 

"So  you  are  a  cheat,  are  you?"  he  screamed; 
262 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

his  hot  blood  surging  into  his  face,  his  black  eyes  blaz 
ing  with  anger. 

As  the  Italian  reached  out  with  his  right  hand 
for  Fallon's  throat,  the  latter  threw  up  his  left  hand, 
from  which  the  little  "  glass "  fell  with  a  clink  on 
the  marble  top  of  the  table.  The  sight  of  this  tiny 
mirror  increased  the  Italian's  rage.  There  streamed 
from  his  lips  a  perfect  cataract  of  Italian  words  which 
are  no  doubt  interdicted  among  the  refined  of  his  own 
country. 

The  sculptor  whipped  out  his  pocket-knife  and 
made  the  utmost  haste  to  open  it.  Then  he  went  for 
Fallon's  throat  like  a  madman.  Again  and  again  he 
sank  that  knife  up  to  the  handle  into  the  "  Cheat.  " 
Any  place,  every  place,  wherever  he  could  strike.  If 
the  "  Cheat "  had  been  possessed  of  forty  lives,  and 
the  Italian  could  have  got  them  all,  he  would  not 
have  been  satisfied,  into  such  a  pitch  of  fury  had  he 
worked  himself.  The  struggle,  the  screams  and 
groans  of  Fallen  brought  the  other  inmates  of  the 
house  running  to  the  room. 

"  There  he  lies,  the  thieving  dog.  He  is  dead,  I 
hope.  "  And  the  sculptor  looked  at  Fallen  as  if  he 
would  like  to  kill  him  all  over  again.  "  Summon  an 
officer,  some  of  you,  I  want  to  give  myself  up.  "  Then 
he  sat  down  and  waited  until  the  officer  came  to  arrest 
him. 

In  the  morning  paper  there  was  a  full  account 
of  the  murder,  a  diagram  of  the  room,  a  picture  of 
the  two  men ;  and  it  was  thus  that  Ola  learned  of  the 
death  of  her  husband. 

263 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

By  the  help  of  that  more  than  brother,  Ned  St. 
Claire,  Fallen  was  buried.  Ola  never  saw  him  after 
he  was  dead.  The  only  feeling  she  had  in  the  mai- 
ter  was  one  of  relief — being  able  "  to  draw  a  good 
breath, "  as  she  told  St.  Claire.  She  was  free  and 
Fallen  was,  she  felt,  better  off. 


264 


CHAPTER   XXV. 
"  There  is  hope  for  her. " 

The  profound  gloom  which  settled  upon  Ola  after 
the  death  of  Fallen,  perplexed  the  "  Prince "  and 
Ned  St.  Claire.  Mr.  York  thought  her  depression 
due  to  the  spring  weather,  for  it  was  the  end  of  March, 
and  to  over-work. 

But  Ned  knew  not  what  to  think.  "  Can  it  be 
possible,"  he  said  to  himself,  "that  she  is  grieving 
for  that  scalawag  of  a  husband?"  He  resented  the 
idea  as  absurd,  and  then  came  back  to  it  by  saying: 
"  But  women  are  so  funny !  All  their  training,  from 
the  cradle  up,  is  false.  They  are  taught  to  try  always 
to  get  the  best  of  one  another,  and  to  deceive  every 
man  they  meet.  As  a  rule,  the  man  a  woman  shows 
the  most  affection  for,  is  not  the  one  she  loves.  Ola 
always  manifested  loathing  for  this  Fallon,  but  some 
thing  is  killing  the  poor  girl;  I  wonder  what  it  is?" 

Everybody  was  kind  to  her.  Nell  alone  of  all 
her  friends,  had  suspicions  along  the  right  line;  for 
Nell  had  noted  the  absence  of  Lieutenant  Benners, 
and  Ola's  sorrow  was  balm  for  Nell's  soul.  She  much 
preferred  to  see  her  friend  stretched  out  on  the  couch, 
hour  after  hour,  with  her  sad  grey  eyes  fastened  on 
one  spot,  than  to  note  the  ecstatic  exhilaration  which 
a  visit  from  Lieutenant  Benners  always  produced. 

The  "  Prince "  sent  Ola  a  horse  and  phaeton, 
265 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

that  she  might  ride  out  on  every  pleasant  day,  but  she 
did  not  improve. 

One  day  St.  Claire  dropped  in  to  try  to  cheer 
her. 

All  tokens  of  her  work  and  study  were  set  aside, 
neatly  folded  and  packed  away.  The  piano  was  closed, 
everything  looked  orderly.  The  rooms  seemed  not 
at  all  like  Ola's  rooms. 

"You  don't  work  any  more,  do  you  Ola?"  said 
he. 

"  I  can't,  Ned,  I  have  neither  strength  nor  desire. 
What  a  consolation  it  is  to  think  that  even  the  longest 
life  is  short.  "  The  saddened  woman  gazed  at  St. 
Claire,  and  read  the  look  of  sorrowful  sympathy  which 
was  stamped  on  his  features,  She  thought: 

"  I  have  known  friendships  and  I  have  known 
love.  But  of  all  the  men  who  ever  crossed  my  path 
way  in  life,  this  is  the  only  one  who  never  caused  me 
a  pang  of  regret,  a  feeling  of  disgust  or  distrust.  How 
thankful  I  am  for  his  friendship  and  sympathy.  Every 
sorrow  I  have  ever  known  I  have  taken  to  him;  and 
he  has  always  encouraged  me,  bade  me  look  up  and  be 
brave.  I  have  imposed  everything  but  this  upon  him ; 
this  I  must  bear  alone.  " 

The  travail  of  her  soul  was  written  so  plainly  on 
her  face,  pleaded  so  mutely,  so  yearningly  from  her 
grey  eyes,  that  Ned  was  moved  to  greater  sympathy 
for  her  than  he  had  ever  known.  And  yet  he  could 
not  force  his  lips  to  speak  a  word.  In  all  the  com 
munion  of  their  most  perfect  friendship,  he  had  been, 
instinctively,  so  in  harmonious  accord  with  her,  that 

266 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

he  had  never  been  officious  in  his  proffers  of  service  or 
sympathy.  He  knew  there  would  come  a  time  when 
her  full  heart  would  overflow,  when  she  must  and 
would  let  him  bear  at  least  a  part  of  her  burden.  So 
at  this  time  he  did  not  interrupt  her  reverie.  At 
length  she  looked  up  to  him  and  said: 

"  Ned,  do  you  think  criminals  ever  reform  ?  " 

"  Very  seldom,  "  said  St.  Claire. 

"  That  is  what  I  thought, "  and  a  long  sigh 
escaped  her  lips.  "  It  seems  to  me  I  have  read  that 
some  one,  somewhere,  somehow,  has  kept  a  record 
of  criminals,  and  that  once  steeped  in  crime,  they 
seldom  reform, "  and  her  lips  trembled. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  would  better  leave  the 
perusal  of  such  lugubrious  literature  for  a  future  time, 
when  your  own  health  shall  have  become  restored?" 
said  Ned. 

"  I  suppose  so,  "  said  Ola,  "  But  I  have  thought 
much  about  it  of  late.  " 

Again  there  was  a  pause  and  a  silence  which 
St.  Claire  did  not  interrupt. 

"  The  true  story,  the  sad  story  of  a  criminal — a 
woman — has  forced  me  to  estimate  the  chances  for 
the  poor  creature,  Ned.  " 

"  Oh,  well,  there  are  exceptions  to  every  rule,  to 
say  something  original,  "  said  St.  Claire,  who  laughed 
a  little.  "  Because  the  average  criminal  does  not  re 
turn  to  '  the  straight  and  narrow, '  that  does  not  say 
that  every  person,  from  first  slip  to  death,  marches 
along  on  '  the  Devil's  highway.'  " 

"  But,  Ned,"  said  Ola,  and  she  arose  from  the 
267 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

couch  upon  which  she  had  been  languidly  lying,  and 
began  walking  nervously  up  and  down  the  room, 
pushing  the  black  curls  off  her  forehead,  as  if  their 
weight  oppressed  her,  "  is  it  not  the  part  of  wisdom 
to  calculate  on  the  probable,  instead  of  the  possible?  " 

"  As  a  fixed,  abstract  principle,  yes.  But  as  I 
said  before,  everything  is  modified  by  circumstances. 
A  person  may  do  a  thing  once,  subjected  to  a  certain 
temptation,  and  refrain  from  doing  that  same  thing  a 
second  time,  though  the  same  allurement  be  there ; 
because  a  new  strength  to  resist  has  come  from  a 
source  which,  in  the  first  instance,  was  lacking." 

Ola  shook  her  head  sadly,  as- if  to  say:  "Your 
remarks  don't  fit  the  case.  "  Then,  as  if  impelled,  or 
rather  compelled,  by  an  unseen  force  upon  which  she 
had  not  calculated,  and  which  was  to  lead  her,  she 
knew  not  whither,  she  said :  "  I  can  understand  how 
earnestly  a  criminal  might  dssire  to  reform." 

"  There  it  all  lies,  Ola.  If  the  desire  be  strong 
enough,  the  reformation  will  be  a  success, "  said  St. 
Claire. 

"Ah,  Ned.  In  that  particular  you  are  mistaken. 
There  are  currents,  forces,  in  the  universe  of 
psychology  which  the  most  virtuous  can  neither  cal 
culate  nor  resist.  Unhappily,  the  reformation,  like  the 
fall,  does  not  depend  upon  earnest  desire ;  but  upon 
circumstances  and  chance ;  and  the  dread  surprises 
which  chance  may  hold  in  ambush,  must  make  even 
the  egoist  quail." 

How  earnestly  she  spoke !  How  her  large,  grey 
eyes  burned  with  a  desire  to  be  understood,  helped. 

268 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  Ned,  there  was  once  a  woman  who  lived  for  a 
number  of  years  with  a  perfect  detestation  and  loath 
ing  of  a  certain  form  of  sin.  She  never  wished  to 
think  of  it  or  hear  of  it,  and  she  refused,  positively, 
to  make  it  a  topic  of  conversation.  She  had  scant 
charity  for  those  of  her  sisters  whose  garments  were 
ever  so  faintly  stained  by  the  mud  of  this  defilement. 
But  she  lived  to  see  her  own  white  soul  so  draggled 
through  this  slough,  that  not  one  clean  spot  re 
mained.  " 

With  nervous  force  she  threw  the  energies  of 
her  sorrows  into  her  voice,  words,  gestures.  She 
walked  almost  fiercely  up  and  down  the  room ;  and 
finally,  standing  beside  the  table  near  St.  Claire,  con 
tinued,  "  What  right  would  that  woman  have  to  be 
lieve  she  could  ever  be  or  remain  pure  again?  Even 
though  an  ocean  of  angels'  tears  should  wash  the  filth 
from  her  soul,  what  guarantee  would  she  have,  that,  of 
her  own  volition,  she  would  not  return  again  to  the 
wallow?"  ; 

"  As  I  said  before,  she  would  have  the  warrant 
of  her  own  earnest  desires,  "  said  St.  Claire. 

"  You  don't  understand.  Let  me  try  to  make 
you.  If  one  were  surrounded  by  every  possible  temp 
tation  to  sin,  every  imaginable,  congenital  inclination ; 
if  the  occupation  were  congenial,  then  one  might  be 
charitable.  But  this  woman  had  no  such  excuse.  She 
was  adored  by  a  good  man  who  showered  her  with 
every  token  of  his  love.  You  will  scarce  believe  it, 
but  she  loved  him.  Their  communion  could  not  have 
been  purer,  had  neither  of  them  known  sex  or  pas- 

269 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

sion.  His  confidence  in  her  was  as  beautiful  as  it 
was  unmerited.  When  he  spoke  to  her  of  marriage, 
he  said,  '  I  live  for  you ;  I  want  the  efforts  of  my  life 
to  bless  you,  and  I  do  not  wish  any  of  my  business 
associates  to  have  a  thought  to  mar  your  purity.  If 
I  knew  a  man  had  wronged  you,  he  should  only  live 
until  I  could  load  a  pistol.' " 

She  paused  a  moment  to  gather  strength;  but  St. 
Claire  could  not  speak.  Then,  with  hysterical  chok- 
ings  she  went  on: 

"  And  Ned,  at  the  very  hour  in  which  this  good 
man  spoke  these  words,  as  well  as  through  all  the 
years  in  which  she  had  been  the  recipient  of  his 
princely  bounty,  the  man  he  trusted  most  of  all,  the 
man  he  loved  as  a  brother,  held  this  woman  in  a 
magic  spell,  from  which  she  could  no  more  break  away 
than  she  can  escape  from  Death,  when  he  comes  from 
his  '  Abode  of  Shade, '  to  claim  her.  She  went  on 
sinning,  from  first  to  last — " 

"  Then  there  was  an  end  of  the  sin?"  said  Ned. 

"  Yes,  there  was  an  end.  But  what  do  you  fancy 
brought  this  shameful  relationship  to  a  conclusion? 
Growth  in  virtue  on  the  woman's  part?"  She  shook 
her  head  sadly.  "  No,  simply  a  new  form  of  sin.  It 
was  jealousy.  Her  own  acts,  in  every  line,  feature  and 
form,  materialized  into  a  Nemesis  to  slay  her  happi 
ness  at  one  blow.  Her  best  friend — if  there  be  such  a 
thing  as  friendship  between  women — at  any  rate,  a 
woman  she  had  loved  for  years — Ah,  well,  you 
know — " 

She  threw  up  her  hands  with  an  impatient  gesture 
270 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

and  walked  away  from  St.  Claire.  Finally,  returning 
to  him  she  said :  "  It  would  be  an  unpardonable 
crime  against  good  judgment  for  that  woman  to  hope ; 
for  how  shall  we  estimate  the  future,  except  by  the 
past?  There  is  but  one  thing  for  her  to  do,  and  that 
is  to  make  a  full  confession  to  this  man  who  has  loved 
her  with  a  purity  unsurpassed  by  anything  the  world 
has  ever  known ;  break  his  heart,  wreck  his  whole  life, 
then  blow  out  her  own  brains  and  be  carted  off  to 
Potter's  Field.  Perhaps  some  day  she  may  make  good 
phosphates;  at  least  it  is  to  be  hoped  she  will,  for 
she  was  never  good  for  anything  else." 

Oh,  how  acrimoniously  she  spoke. 

"  No,  there  is  no  hope  for  her.  I  have  told  her 
so." 

Of  this  agony  of  soul,  every  intonation  of  her 
voice,  every  movement  of  her  lips,  every  gesture  of 
her  body  bore  witness. 

"  You  should  have  told  her  to  appeal  to  the  man 
hood  of  her  lover;  she  should  have  shown  him  the 
great  wrong  he  was  doing  her ;  she  should  have  urged 
him  to  pass  out  of  her  life — " 

"  Ned,  you  have  little  conception  of  the  earnest 
desire  this  poor  soul  had  to  respect  herself,  if  you 
fancy  for  one  moment  that  anything  of  that  kind  was 
neglected.  No,  no,  no !  A  thousand  times,  no !  She 
told  him  all;  she  urged  him  to  go  away  and  leave  her; 
she  told  him  she  would  never  marry  except  upon  his 
most  solemn  promise  not  to  attempt  to  see  her  again. 
And  thus  through  the  years,  she  refused  respectabil- 

271 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

ity,  refused  a  home  of  wealth,  outraged  the  love  of  a 
good  man,  and  for  what?  " 

It  seemed  as  though  she  could  not  say  the  words 
which  were  so  humiliating  to  her  pride.  But  she  must. 
In  full  confession  alone  could  she  get  either  comfort 
or  reliable  advice.  Chokingly  the  words  came  from 
her: 

"  All  this  sacrifice  for  a  man  who  was  simply 
making  a  convenience  of  her.  She  had  not  even  the 
excuse  of  ignorance  here — for  he  had  betrayed  him 
self  in  their  early  acquaintance.  No,  there  is  no  hope 
for  this  woman. 

"  She  is  as  much  a  slave  to  a  peculiar  influence 
her  lover  has  over  her,  as  his  own  false  tongue  is  to  the 
soft  words  of  seduction  commanded  by  his  brain.  No, 
there  is  no  hope  for  her  and  I  have  told  her  so.  " 
And  Ola  went  back  to  the  couch  and  leaned  her 
tired  head  down  upon  the  arm  of  it.  Relaxed  was 
every  muscle;  she  had  abandoned  her  entire  being 
to  the  melancholy  of  despair. 

"Do  you  think  she  would  ever  have  married?"' 
said  Ned. 

"While  under  the  dominion  of  her  lover?"  Ola 
interrogated. 

"Yes,"  said  Ned. 

"  Never,  "  said  Ola  with  prompt  and  positive  em 
phasis.  "  She  was  indeed  low,  but  not  quite  as  bad 
as  that " 

"  Then,  my  dear  girl,  you  must  change  the  advice 
272 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

you  have  given  the  poor  creature.  There  is  hope  for 
her.  Tell  her  to  marry  the  good  man  who  loves  her, 
tell  her  to  bury  forever  from  her  mind  all  thought  of 
her  past.  This  woman  had  honor  enough  not  to  wed 
while  she  knew  she  was  a  vassal  to  her  lover's  power; 
that  same  honor,  when  once  she  is  married,  will  keep 
her  pure.  " 

"Oh,  Ned,  do  you  really  think  that?"  said  Ola 
and  she  raised  her  head  from  the  arm  of  the  couch  and 
looked  at  him  as  if  more  than  Heaven  depended  upon 
his  verdict. 

"  I  know  it,  "  said  St.  Claire. 

At  this  moment  Lucy  brought  in  a  letter  and 
gave  it  to  Ola,  who  said  to  St.  Claire,  "  Have  I  your 
permission?  " 

"  Certainly,  "  said  he. 

She  tore  open  the  envelope.  It  was  a  few  lines 
from  the  "  Prince, "  saying  he  would  come  up  that 
afternoon  and  take  her  to  see  some  property  he  was 
thinking  of  buying.  She  handed  the  note  to  St. 
Claire. 

"  Just  the  right  thing  at  the  right  time.  Go,  my 
dear  girl.  April  is  sending  on  a  few  of  her  smiles 
in  advance.  It  is  a  really  warm  day  for  March.  Go, 
it  will  do  you  a  world  of  good.  " 

She  did  go,  and  she  returned  looking  much  bet 
ter.  The  "  Prince  "  thought,  to  his  dying  day,  that 
it  was  the  ride  which  had  benefited  her.  The  ride  did 
her  no  harm;  but  the  cordial  which  renewed  her 

273 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

strength  was  the  words  of  encouragement  Ned  St. 
Claire  had  spoken  to  her. 

And  St.  Claire,  who  had  strengthened  Ola,  had 
no  one  to  minister  to  him.  He  had  many  times  told 
her  she  was  just  as  human  as  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  of  flesh,  if  the  right  man  were  to  come  along. 
With  that  inconsistency  which  is  part  and  parcel  of 
our  humanity,  he  had  sunned  himself  in  the  delusion 
that  she  was  not  as  humanly  frail  as  other  women ; 
he  .believed  she  would  withstand  any  temptation ; 
that  she  could  pass  through  all  sorts  of  mud  and 
none  of  it  would  stick  to  her. 

Now  was  his  time  to  suffer.  He  had  understood 
her;  the  most  obtuse  could  not  have  failed  to  pene 
trate  the  gauzy  film  of  hypothesis  with  which  she  had 
related  the  story  of  her  criminal. 

Ah,  ye  sons  of  Adam !  As  the  cruel  hand  of 
Time  demolishes  your  idols,  is  it  any  wonder  that 
your  faith  dies? 

In  after  years,  when  Ned  St.  Claire  saw  Ola 
happy,  married,  and  felt  that  but  for  his  words  to 
her  she  never  would  have  raised  her  head  again,  he 
was  glad  she  had  loved  him  well  enough  to  bring  her 
burdens  to  him.  But  she  dealt  his  faith  in  woman 
hood  such  a  blow  that  he  never  recovered.  She  had 
been  his  ideal  of  all  that  is  pure  and  good  and 
beautiful. 

How  little  we  relish  the  taste  of  our  own  pessi 
mistic  sauce,  when  cruelly  served  with  our  own 
cherished  hopes  and  dreams.  There  were  no  tears 
in  his  heart  when  he  said  to  her,  "  But  my  girl,  you 

274 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

are  just  as  human  as  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  if  the 
right  man  comes  along. "  How  different,  oh,  how 
very  different  were  his  sensations  when  he  found  that 
she  was  "  human  " — "  just  as  human  as  all  the  rest 
of  the  world.  " 

Be  not  deceived,  ye  who  dream  of  beauty,  purity, 
perfection;  that  trinity  inhabits  not  this  earth. 


275 


CHAPTER     XXVI. 

"  She's  mine ;  every  little  bit  of  her.    I  persevered  and 
I  got  her." 

The  "  Prince "  was  the  most  sanguine  of  all 
sanguine  temperaments.  He  always  had  faith  in 
the  successful  termination  of  any  enterprise  he  took 
in  hand.  When  he  first  asked  Ola  to  marry  him  and 
she  refused,  he  decided,  in  his  own  mind,  he  "  would 
humor  her  in  all  her  little  whims, "  and  eventually 
she  would  marry  him.  He  never  for  a  moment  ad 
mitted  to  himself  that  the  affair  could  terminate  in 
any  other  way.  Through  all  the  years  of  her  strug 
gles,  he  had  given  her  every  possible  token  of  sym 
pathy  and  encouragement.  There  were  two  things 
only,  in  his  life :  Ola  and  money. 

Before  he  consecrated  himself  to  her,  he  had 
cared  nothing  for  money;  but  now  he  was  rolling  It 
up  as  fast  as  possible.  Now  that  she  was  ill  and 
discouraged,  and  seemed  determined  to  die,  simply 
because  she  was  tired  of  living,  the  same  hopeful  view 
which  he  always  took  of  everything,  sustained  him. 

He  was  kind,  attentive,  thoughtful.  He  watched 
her  carefully,  noted  the  result  of  every  experiment 
he  tried.  After  that  ride  she  was  better.  All  right, 
she  should  have  one  every  pleasant  day.  He  wouid 
attend  to  that  himself.  Wall  Street  would  not  sink 
out  of  sight;  it  would  still  be  there  with  all  its  op- 

276 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

portunities  for  making  money,  after  his  little  darling 
should  have  been  restored  to  health.  He  would 
tackle  Wall  Street  once  more,  with  all  the  greater 
vim  on  account  of  the  vacation  he  had  imposed  on 
himself. 

He  pressed  her  gently,  day  after  day,  to  marry 
him,  and  "  let  him  love  her  back  to  life.  "  But  she 
always  refused. 

One  evening  as  he  sat  beside  her  on  the  couch, 
urging,  as  usual,  his  cause,  she  shook  her  head  and 
said :  "  It  would  be  very  wrong  for  me  to  marry  you. 
My  hope  is  gone,  my  courage  is  gone,  my  faith  in 
myself  is  gone.  What  have  I  to  give  you?  Nothing 
but  a  corpse.  " 

"  I'll  take  it,  "  said  the  "  Prince  "  eagerly.  In  the 
old  speculating  days  he  had  never  jumped  so  quickly 
to  "  cover  his  shorts,  "  as  he  now  sprang  after  the 
faint  hope  offered  in  the  fact  that  Ola's  words  were 
not  a  positive  refusal. 

She  laughed  a  little;  she  could  not  help  it.  But 
soon  coming  back  to  a  realization  of  her  unworthi- 
ness,  she  said,  "  I  hope  I  have  not  much  longer  to 
live.  I  love  you  so  holily  that  I  would  like  to  do 
something  to  make  you  happy.  Because  of  the  nature 
of  my  sentients  towards  you,  I  cannot  marry  you.  I 
know  you  so  well,  and  venerate  you  so  much,  that  I 
think  few  women  are  worthy  of  the  love  you  give 
me.  I  certainly  am  not.  Be  sure  my  knowledge  that 
I  am  not  worthy  of  you  is  what  makes  me  refuse.  " 

The  "  Prince "  leaned  over  her  and  kissed  her 
cheek  lightly,  saying,  "  Sweet,  innocent  angel,  how 

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THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

little  your  pure  soul  knows  of  that  world  in  which 
men  live.  The  unworthiness  is  the  other  way. 
Haven't  I  seen  you  and  watched  you  almost  daily  for 
nearly  five  years?  Don't  the  same  friends  love  you 
and  honor  you  now,  who  loved  you  and  honored  you 
when  I  first  met  you?  I  am  not  a  very  rich  man  yet, 
'  Baby, '  but  I  shall  be.  You  don't  run  much  to  ex 
travagances;  I  think  I  can  supply  what  you  want  in 
the  way  of  money.  " 

"  As  far  as  money  is  concerned,  I  neither  know 
nor  care  whether  you  are  worth  ten  cents  or  ten  mil 
lions.  If  I  thought  your  happiness  safe  in  my  hands 
I  would  marry  you, "  said  Ola. 

"  I  am  satisfied,  darling,  perfectly  satisfied. 
Won't  you  let  me  take  the  chance  on  that?  Let  us 
be  married,  and  let  me  take  you  to  Italy;  there  you 
can  see  all  the  best  there  is  in  art,  and  in  that  climate 
you  will  get  well. " 

The  "  Prince  "  held  her  hands  in  his  and  looked 
at  her,  his  blue  eyes  full  of  love. 

At  that  moment  Nell  sauntered  into  the  parlor. 
Nell  was  never  the  least  in  the  "  Prince's  "  way  in 
his  love-making.  She  was  his  friend  and  ally,  and  he 
knew  it  and  was  grateful  to  her  for  it.  Extending  a 
hand  to  her  he  exclaimed,  "  Come  here,  little  one, 
and  help  me  plead  my  cause !  "  Then  he  told  Nell 
what  he  had  been  saying  to  Ola. 

The  girl  sat  down  sidewise  on  the  couch  by  Ola, 
and  said,  "  Why  not  make  all  your  friends  happy, 
dear?" 

"  Oh,  Nell !  Nell !  can  it  be  possible  that  you  urge 
278 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

me  to  marry  Mr.  York?  Look  at  me!  What  a  wreck 
I  am!  Would  it  be  right?  Tell  me,  would  it  be 
right?  Would  it  be  safe?" 

"  I  think  it  would,  dear.  Think  of  how  long  and 
how  much  he  has  loved  you.  " 

"  Yes,  darling,  it  isn't  in  the  books  to  fill  my 
place  with  you ;  for  I  love  you  as  no  man  ever  loved  a 
woman.  Without  you,  my  life  will  be  nothing. 
With  you,  darling,  it  will  be  Heaven, "  said  the 
"  Prince.  " 

"But  what  if  I  could  not  make  you  happy?" 
said  Ola. 

"  But  you  can,  '  Baby, '  "  said  he. 

"  Certainly  you  can,  and  you  will,  dear.  Be  good 
and  brave  and  try  to  get  well.  Try  to  love  those  who 
love  you,  "  said  Nell. 

Ola  was  silent.  "  Nell  and  Ned  St.  Claire  had 
both  given  her  courage.  Would  she  be  safe  if  ever 
Lieutenant  Benners  were  to  cross  her  path  again? 
Could  she  trust  her  husband's  honor  to  the  chance 
of  that  mysterious  power  the  Lieutenant  exercised 
upon  her?  " 

The  "  Prince  "  looked  at  her  and  Nell  looked  at 
her.  The  eyes  of  the  one  said :  "  Let  me  love  you 
back  to  life?  "  The  eyes  of  the  other  said:  "  Courage, 
Ola,  courage.  " 

She  thought,  "  I  have  but  to  knock  at  Death's 
door,  and  it  will  open  to  me.  If  the  Fates  leave  me 
free  one  month  or  one  year,  should  I  not  give  that 
time  to  him?  Faith  in  my  own  strength  to  resist  the 
subtle  power  Lieutenant  Benners  has  over  my  will, 

279 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

I  have  none;  but  my  husband's  honor  shall  never  be 
sullied  while  any  avenue  into  Death's  realm  remains 
open. " 

Then  she  arose  and  went  to  the  window.  Throw 
ing  open  the  blinds  she  looked  at  the  stars.  Thus 
she  stood  for  a  few  moments,  which,  to  the  "  Prince  " 
seemed  a  few  eternities.  Mr.  York  would  have  gone  to 
her,  but  Nell  restrained  him  with  a  touch  of  her  hand. 
The  two  women  had  been  together  for  so  many  years 
that  Nell  was  familiar  with  every  phase  of  her  friend's 
soarings  out  of  the  real  world;  and  she  knew  that 
nothing  could  bring  Ola  so  near  the  "  Prince  "  as  to 
asborb  that  comfort  which  came  softly  down  on  those 
rays  of  starlight. 

With  one  hand  on  the  open  blind,  and  the  other 
resting  on  the  casement,  Ola  looked  up  at  the  stars, 
until  an  expression  of  sweet  comfort  settled  upon 
her  features.  When  she  turned  around  she  met  the 
earnest  eyes  of  Nell  and  the  "  Prince.  "  Placing  one 
hand  on  Nell's  shoulder  and  the  other  in  that  of  the 
"  Prince,  "  she  said,  softly,  "  I  will  try.  " 

"Do  you  mean  it?  "said  the  "Prince,"  and  his 
blue  eyes  danced  with  joy. 

"  Yes,  "  said  Ola. 

"You  won't  back  out?" 

"  No,  "  she  said,  smiling  a  little  at  his  earnest 
ness. 

"  Oh,  you  little  darling !  You  angel !  I'm  the 
happiest  man  in  all  this  big  world. " 

Then  he  sat  on  the  couch,  with  one  arm 
around  Ola  and  the  other  around  Nell,  and  talked 

280 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

of  his  prospects  and  intentions.  He  would  buy  the 
house  at  which  he  and  Ola  had  looked,  that  is,  if 
it  suited  her.  He  would  buy  it  in  her  name,  that  in 
case  anything  should  happen  to  him  before  they  were 
married,  his  pious  relatives  could  not  take  it  from 
her. 

There  were  two  things  about  the  "  Prince " 
which  always  set  Nell  off  into  "  spe-asms  "  as  she 
expressed  it:  his  love-making,  and  his  descriptions 
of  trades  with  old  Jake  Israel.  She  now  exclaimed 
merrily,  "  Everything  is  for  Ola !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  "  he  said ;  "everything  I  make  shall  be 
hers  as  fast  as  I  make  it.  " 

"  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  to  hear  you  say 
to  Ola  some  morning  after  you  are  married,  '  "Baby," 
got  a  quarter?  I  think  old  Jake  Israel  will  take  those 
defaulted  securities  to-day,  then  I'll  pay  you  back 
to-night, '  "  said  Nell,  and  all  three  of  them  laughed. 

"  Old  Jake  and  I  have  been  awful  busy  working 
up  a  million  and  a  half  of  commercial  paper,  for  banks 
to  put  in  their  dead  boxes — " 

"  Their  dead  boxes ! "  screamed  Nell,  "  for 
Heaven's  sake  do  banks  keep  corpses  in  their  vaults?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  "Prince"  laughing.  "Yes, 
and  very  convenient  corpses  they  are,  to  resurrect 
in  case  of  emergencies,  such  as  the  visit  of  the  in 
spector.  " 

"  No,  "  said  Nell,  "  but  tell  me  seriously,  what  is 
a  dead  box?  I  feel  worried  about  my  bank  account.  " 

"  A  good  many  people  would,  if  they  knew  the 
inside  workings  of  banks.  I  will  try  to  make  you 

281 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

understand  what  a  dead  box  is.  It  is  a  common  thing 
with  some  banks  to  borrow  stocks,  bonds  and  well- 
rated  commercial  paper,  paying  for  the  same  from 
one  to  five  per  cent.,  for  four  or  six  months,  about 
the  time  they  are  making  up  their  yearly  statement. 
It  is  very  convenient  stuff  to  have  on  hand.  The 
better  the  showing  at  such  a  time,  the  more  the 
stock  of  the  bank  is  worth,  and  the  better  their  credit. 
The  bank  locks  these  stocks  and  bonds  and  commer 
cial  paper  up  in  a  little  box  which  they  call  their  dead 
box.  The  contents  of  this  dead  box  is  also  very  use 
ful  in  covering  up  losses  and  bad  investments.  Hired 
capital  answering  the  purpose  of  actual  possessions. 

"  Banks,  as  well  as  people,  travel  as  fast  on  what 
they  seem  to  have  as  they  would  if  they  actually  had 
it.  In  other  words,  when  commercial  paper  has  gone 
to  protest,  and  becomes  worthless,  it  goes  into  the 
dead  box;  and  it  is  a  common  practice  to  borrow  live 
paper  to  take  its  place. 

"  Banks  are  compelled,  by  law,  to  charge  up  un 
paid  paper  to  the  loss  account,  within  six  months 
after  it  has  been  protested.  Old  Jake  supplies  his 
customers  with  borrowed  paper.  In  fact,  old  Jake 
has  a  market  for  almost  everything.  So,  '  Baby ; 
when  you  lend  me  a  quarter,  upon  the  strength  of  a 
trade  with  old  Jake,  I  probably  will  be  able  to  pay 
it  back  within  a  day  or  two,  "  said  he,  laughing,  as  he 
patted  Ola  on  the  cheek. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  '  back '  you  when  you 
go  'short,' "  said  Ola,  "we  should  be  ruined  surely  if 

282 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

I  should  let  you  get  into  the  hands  of  the  old  mis 
sionary  again.  " 

The  next  day  the  "  Prince  "  wrote  a  few  lines  to 
his  friend,  Lieutenant  Benners,  saying  how  happy 
he  was,  in  spite  of  Ola's  poor  health,  since  she  had 
promised  to  marry  him  in  June.  They  would  spend 
the  summer  in  Europe,  he  said.  He  asked  the  Lieu 
tenant's  congratulations,  and  assured  him  of  his  sin 
cere  friendship,  and  the  pleasure  it  would  give  him 
to  welcome  the  Lieutenant  to  their  home,  after  they 
should  have  returned  to  New  York. 

The  Lieutenant  wrote  a  graceful  and  gentlemanly 
letter  of  congratulation,  which  satisfied,  even  pleased, 
the  "Prince." 

Ola  begged  Nell  to  attend  to  everything,  saying 
she  was  too  ill.  To  this  Nell  agreed,  for  she  had  de 
cided  that  as  she  and  Jack  would  probably  never  be 
able  to  see  their  way  any  clearer,  they  might  as  well 
get  married  too.  The  "  Prince  "  convinced  Jack  that 
it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  give  Ola  such 
escort  as  she  needed,  since  he  would  have  so  much 
business  to  attend  to,  and  thus  persuaded  Jack  "  to 
go  with  them  to  escort  the  women,  while  he  himself 
was  interviewing  European  bankers.  And  Nell  must 
go  to  keep  Ola  company." 

How  busy  Nell  and  the  "  Prince "  were,  in 
getting  that  house  furnished !  When  the  friends  were 
together  in  the  evening,  Nell  complained,  in  seeming 
bitterness,  to  Ola,  "  Just  think  of  how  I  must  suffer ! 
I  haven't  been  allowed  to  go  into  a  forty-nine  cent 
store  while  I  have  been  furnishing  the  house.  " 

283 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"  Never  mind, "  said  Jack,  "  after  we  come  back 
from  over  seas,  and  you  furnish  up  for  us,  it  will  be 
all  forty-nine  cents.  " 

"  How  I  shall  revel  in  those  pennies  saved, '' 
said  Nell. 

At  last — and  it  was  only  a  few  weeks  before  they 
were  to  be  married —  "there  was  enough  in  the  house 
to  start  on, "  the  "  Prince  "  said ;  and  he  and  Ola, 
with  Nell  and  Jack,  went  to  look  at  it.  Everything 
was  beautiful;  everything  showed  Nell's  artistic 
touch  and  the  "  Prince's  "  disregard  of  cost. 

When  they  reached  the  rooms  reserved  for  Ola's 
personal  use,  the  "  Prince  "  said,  "  The  house  and 
everything  in  it  is  yours,  darling;  but  in  these  three 
rooms  we  have  tried  especially  to  remember  your 
tastes,  and  conform  to  them.  In  here  you  can  with 
draw,  even  from  your  husband.  I  do  not  want  you  to 
think  I  gain  any  rights  by  putting  a  wedding  ring  on 
your  finger,  save  and  except  only,  the  right  to  protect 
you,  without  fear  of  any  tarnishing  suspicion  from 
anybody." 

"  Always  the  same,  "  thought  Ola.  "  The  man 
never  swerves  a  hair's  breadth  from  true  nobility  of 
soul,  where  I  am  concerned.  If  I  only  could  feel  that 
he  is  a  little  human.  " 

Then  they  went  into  his  room.  The  first  things 
that  met  Ola's  eyes  were  the  pictures  she  had  painted 
for  the  exhibition.  She  recalled  the  afternoon  in  Will 
Fallon's  room.  The  tears  came  to  her  grey  eyes ; 
she  leaned  her  head  on  the  "  Prince's  "  shoulder  and 
cried,  "Oh,  Harold!  Harold!" 

284 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

They  were  all  the  words  she  could  utter,  and  he 
did  not  understand  even  those;  but  he  thought  he 
did.  He  kissed  her  and  softly  said,  "  Do  you  think, 
'  Baby,'  that  I  could  bear  to  have  anybody  else 
own  those  pictures  into  which  I  had  seen  you  day 
by  day  painting  your  own  little  life  and  soul?  Oh, 
no !  They  had  to  be  mine,  at  any  cost ;  and  I  tell  you 
I  just  did  have  to  pay  for  them ;  those  art  dealers  ran 
'em  up  pretty  lively.  " 

Ola's  heart  was  too  full  for  her  lips  to  speak  a 
word. 

The  pictures  were  a  genuine  surprise  to  Nell,  too, 
as  neither  she  nor  Jack  had  ever  suspected  anything 
of  the  kind.  But  Ola  now  knew  that  the  "  Prince  ' 
had  got  up  a  "  corner  "  on  the  Ola  Del  pictures,  with 
the  intent  of  "  bulling  the  market,"  not  having  to 
fear  that  any  one  in  the  pool  would  unload  on  the 
others,  since  "corner,  "  pool,  deal  and  all,  were  his 
and  his  alone.  All  the  rest  were  board-room  clacquers, 
hired  to  make  a  "  bull  "  market. 

But  all  these  things  impressed  Ola  more  and  more 
with  a  sense  of  her  own  unworthiness. 

"  In  your  own  rooms,  Ola,  we  tried  to  remember 
your  passion  for  dreaming,"  said  Nell,  "  You  can 
stretch  out  here  and  there  and  everywhere,  and  dream 
and  dream  and  dream.  " 

"  You  are  all  so  good  and  kind.  "  Then  she  put 
her  hands  on  the  "  Prince's  "  shoulders,  and  looking 
into  his  blue  eyes  she  said,  "  If  you  are  willing,  dear, 
we  will  give  Nell  and  Jack  the  flat.  " 

285 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"  Oh,  you  little  angel !  That's  just  what  I  wanted 
you  to  say,  "  said  the  "  Prince.  " 

"  Just  my  luck !  "  said  Nell.  "  Now  I  won't  get  a 
chance  at  any  of  those  forty-nine-cent  stores  after 
all. " 

But  she  went  up  to  Ola  and  kissed  her;  and  if 
there  were  not  tears  in  Nell's  eyes,  at  least  there  was 
an  exceedingly  suspicious  moisture. 

That  evening  the  "  Prince "  was  looking  over 
the  list  of  those  to  whom  wedding  cards  had  been 
sent.  Said  he  to  Nell,  "  Little  one,  I  don't  see  Lieu 
tenant  Benners'  name  here.  " 

Nell  scanned  the  list  and  then  most  innocently 
said :  "  Dat  am  so !  Nur  His  Umptiousity,  nuther, 
How  could  I  ever  forget  His  Umptiousity?"  And 
Lieutenant  Benners  and  Captain  Calhoun  were  added 
there  and  then. 

"  Ola,"  said  Nell,  "  Do  you  know  where  Mi. 
Cameron  is?" 

"  No,  "  said  Ola. 

"  Do  you  think  cards  sent  in  care  of  the  '  Grant, ' 
would  reach  him?" 

"Most  likely,"  said  Ola. 

"  Then,  Mr.  Cameron,  down  goes  your  name," 
said  Nell. 

In  a  foreign  port  Mr.  Cameron  received  those 
wedding  cards.  He  sighed  a  little  romantic  sigh,  and 
whistled  "  Widow  Jinkins'  Daughter,  some  other 
fellow's  got  her,  "  as  he  paced  the  deck  of  his  ship, 
keeping  the  "  wind  watch  "  or  doing  some  other  of 

286 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

those  high,  mighty  and  important  duties  which  bring 
naval  officers  to  early  graves. 

In  June  the  four  were  married  and  sailed  to 
Europe.  Nell  took  her  marriage  as  she  did  almost 
everything  else,  in  an  exceedingly  matter-of-fact 
way ;  .but  the  "  Prince "  was  happy  in  the  fullest 
sense  of  the  word.  After  the  ceremony,  he  took  Ola 
in  his  arms,  saying,  "  She's  mine.  Every  little  bit  of 
her.  I  persevered  and  I  got  her.  " 

When  they  returned  to  New  York  in  the  Fall, 
they  went  to  their  own  home ;  and  gradually  Ola 
drew  around  her  a  host  of  admiring  friends.  How 
proud  and  happy  her  husband  was,  his  own  bright 
face  was  sponsor  for. 

Back  again  to  his  office  in  Wall  Street  he  went, 
eager  for  the  fray.  More  money  for  Ola.  She 
should  be  one  of  the  rich  women  of  New  York.  Rich 
in  money,  as  he  was  in  her;  that  was  his  boast,  that 
his  aim, 

Ola  stepped  in  upon  her  husband  by  surprise  one 
day  when  he  was  talking  finance  to  some  man,  and 
the  thought  passed  through  her  mind,  "  Could  I 
paint  the  keen  look  on  that  face  when  he  is  talking 
finance,  and  then  the  expression  which  passed  into 
the  same  features  when  he  looked  up  and  saw  me 
just  now,  and  name  the  picture  '  Love/  and  '  Busi 
ness,'  my  fame  would  be  world-wide." 


287 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 
The  Sting  Ray. 

But  turn  .back  a  little,  to  take  up  some  of 
the  other  threads  of  the  story  that  were  spinning 
themselves  out  while  the  "  happy  pairs  "  were  travel 
ing  in  Europe  and  the  "  Prince  "  was  trying  with  all 
his  might  and  main  "  to  love  Ola  back  to  life.  " 

The  flat,  which  would  in  future  be  the  home  of 
Nell  and  Jack,  had  a  sorrowful,  deserted  look.  The 
knick-knacks  were  packed  away,  and  everything  seem 
ed  to  cry  out,  "  We  are  lonesome !  Come  back !  Ola, 
come  back !  " 

Ned  St.  Claire  had  promised  Nell  to  sleep  there, 
and  the  janitor  of  the  building,  who  lived  in  the 
basement,  was  to  have  a  watchful  eye  on  the  things 
during  the  daytime.  But  it  was  a  disconsolate 
enough  place  for  Ned.  What  a  comfort  the  sympathy 
he  had  given  Ola  had  been  to  him,  Ned  himself 
scarcely  dreamed,  until,  like  Othello,  his  occupation 
was  gone.  The  poor,  lonesome  fellow  could  not  come 
into  the  flat  at  night  until  he  was  well  tired  out  and 
disposed  to  sleep  without  rocking. 

The  "  Prince "  had  left  their  new  house  ;n 
charge  of  a  reliable  old  housekeeper  who  had  come  to 
him  well  recommended;  so  those  who  were  abroad 
had  no  worry  concerning  the  home-end  of  the  line. 

And  Lieutenant  Benners?  Well,  he  just  went 
288 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

along  enjoying  himself,  wherever  and  with  whomso 
ever  the  Fates  threw  him.  He  missed  Ola,  but  what 
of  that?  He  was  not  going  to  carry  a  face  around 
with  him  as  long  as  the  moral  law,  just  because  one 
woman  was  unreasonable,  even  if  she  was  neat  and 
dainty — even  if  she  was  "just  the  sweetest  girl  that 
ever  was."  But,  oh!  how  he  missed  her!  Her  very 
faults  and  her  unreasonableness  formed  a  basis  of 
regret. 

So,  while  he  went  along  enjoying  himself  where- 
ever  and  with  whomsoever  the  Fates  threw  him,  Ben- 
ners  often  found  himself  drawing  comparisons  be 
tween  Ola  and  other  women,  and  almost  invariably  to 
the  disadvantage  of  those  others. 

It  was  the  last  week  in  July,  and  the  weather 
was  awfully  hot.  "  Bronze "  and  the  Lieutenant 
were  sitting  on  the  beach  at  Coney  Island,  and  their 
wet  bathing  suits  (for  they  had  been  in  swimming) 
clung  to  their  figures  as  they  reclined  on  the  sand. 
It  was  one  of  those  days  when  there  was  a  land 
breeze.  The  waves  rolled  up  and  broke  and  went 
back,  in  a  listless,  indifferent  sort  of  way,  as  if  they 
were  tired  of  this  monotonous  work,  at  which  they 
had  toiled  without  reward  or  hope  of  reward,  for 
so  many  ages. 

The  sun's  rays  beat  down  on  the  wet  suits  of 
"  Bronze  "  and  the  Lieutenant  and  generated  a  hot 
steam-like  vapor  which  mingled  with  the  oppressive 
air.  The  Lieutenant  dug  his  toes  into  the  sand,  his 
eyes  wandering  the  while  over  the  revelations  made 
by  "  Bronze's  "  wet  bathing  suit.  "  She  is  too  fat,"  he 

289 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

reflected,  "  I  don't  like  those  large  women ;  they  so 
soon  assume  a  matronly  walk.  Her  eyes  are  big  and 
oxy-looking,  but  they  have  no  expression  about 
them.  " 

He  thought  of  the  many  times  he  had  laughed 
at  Ola  and  called  her  silly,  because  she  would  not 
go  swimming  with  him,  and  how  she  had  met  his 
ridicule  by  saying,  "  I  know  I  am  silly.  I  know  bet 
ter  women  than  I  am  do  go,  but  I  cannot.  I  can 
swim  well  and  often  go;  but  only  to  those  places  re 
served  for  women. " 

He  thought  of  all  her  modesty,  and  how,  even 
after  their  intimacy  had  continued  for  a  number  of 
years,  he  had  said,  "  You  act  just  as  distant  and  shy 
with  me  now  as  you  did  when — at  the  first.  "  And 
how  she  had  replied,  "  I  really  cannot  help  it,  it  Is 
my  nature. " 

Even  at  this  moment  it  was  a  pleasure  for  him 
to  remember  that  Ola  had  never  sat  in  a  wet  bath 
ing  suit  on  the  sands,  where  every  passing  man  might 
comment  upon  her  shapely  limbs  and  beautiful  arms. 
She  had  been  circumspect,  distant,  almost  cold  to  him 
in  the  presence  of  others.  And  now,  sitting  on  the 
wet  sands  beside  the  voluptuous  "  Bronze,"  he  had  no 
relish  for  the  feast.  He  almost  sighed  as  he  thought 
of  the  times  he  and  Ola  had  walked  along  the  paths 
at  the  sea  shore,  as  properly  and  pokily  as  two  old 
Quakers.  He  almost  sighed,  and  thought,  "  She 
was  the  only  one  I  ever  knew.  There  never  was  and 
never  will  be  another  like  her. " 

290 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"  Let's  go  in  again,  "  said  "  Bronze.  "  It's 
awfully  hot  here. " 

"All  right.  We'll  take  a  brisk  swim  out  into 
deep  water,  and  then  back.  After  that  we'll  come 
out  and  dress  and  go  to  dinner. " 

They  waded  in  until  the  water  was  about  breast 
high,  when  both  struck  out  for  deep  water.  "  Bronze  " 
was  an  excellent  swimmer  and  perfectly  fearless;  so 
was  the  Lieutenant.  They  laughed  and  sported  with 
the  mighty  ocean,  enjoying  the  feeling  that  they  were 
masters  of  this  monster  that  had  devoured  so  any 
of  the  sons  of  men. 

"  Oh,  "  said  the  Lieutenant,  and  he  gave  a  groan 
of  pain. 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  "Bronze." 

"  I've  got  a  cramp,  and  I  need  help.  What  shall 
we  do?  We  are  so  far  out.  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Don't  get  excited.  Just  rest  the  tips  of  your 
fingers  on  my  shoulder  and  I  will  tug  you  into  shore. 
You  know  we  have  done  this  often,  only  don't  get 
nervous. " 

Recognizing  the  value  of  this  suggestion,  the 
Lieutenant  lightly  caught  hold  of  "  Bronze's  "  bath 
ing-suit,  at  the  shoulder,  and  cried,  "  Strike  out  for 
shore,  my  girl,  for  I  can't  stand  it  many  moments." 

"  Bronze's "  vigorous  health  and  her  perfect 
familiarity  with  the  water  stood  her  in  good  stead 
now.  She  made  long,  telling  strokes,  between  which 
she  told  the  Lieutenant  not  to  feel  frightened,  as  she 
was  going  to  shout  for  help,  fearing  that  her  own 
^strength  would  fail  her.  "  Bronze  "  was  not  afraid 

291 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

of  her  own  strength  giving  out,  but  she  was  afraid 
that  the  Lieutenant,  if  in  great  agony  by  cramps, 
might  lose  his  presence  of  mind  and  clutch  her  so 
that  both  of  them  would  go  to  the  bottom.  Therefore 
at  intervals  she  shouted  loudly  for  help,  though  she 
did  not  relax  her  own  efforts  to  reach  the  shore. 

One  of  the  life-savers  and  another  man  came  to 
her  assistance.  They  got  the  Lieutenant  on  the  sand, 
and,  learning  that  the  cramp  was  in  his  right  leg, 
gained  his  consent  to  give  it  a  good  pull  that  the 
cramp  might  come  out. 

Benners  groaned  pitifully,  his  beautiful  face 
blanched  to  death's  own  pallor;  instantly  cold  drops, 
which  told  their  own  unmistakable  tale  of  his  agony, 
stood  on  his  brow,  and  he  fainted.  Then  there  was 
much  rushing  around  for  restoratives  in  the  midst  of 
which  "  Bronze  "  quietly  said,  "  You  attend  to  him ; 
I  will  go  to  my  room  and  dress  myself.  " 

This  was  the  most  sensible  thing  she  could  have 
done;  but  after  the  Lieutenant  had  regained  con 
sciousness  and  asked  for  her  and  was  told  she  had 
gone  to  dress,  even  his  agony,  which  was  indeed  great, 
did  not  prevent  him  from  thinking,  "  I  could  never 
have  induced  Ola  to  put  on  a  bathing-suit  and  go  in 
swimming  with  me,  but  I  am  sure,  had  she  been 
cast  up  on  this  beach  as  nude  as  the  day  she  was  born, 
she  would  not  have  gone  away  to  make  a  toilet,  when 
she  could  not  know  but  any  of  the  faint  pulsations  of 
my  heart  might  be  the  last.  " 

They  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face.  Was 
there  a  tear  with  it?  If  so,  forgive  him;  he  was  far 

292 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

from  home — from  that  angelic  mother  and  those  two 
pure  sisters. 

The  friends  which  accident  makes  of  the  veriest 
strangers,  helped  him  to  dress.  At  least  they  dressed 
him  as  best  they  could;  for  his  leg  had  already  be 
gun  to  swell  at  an  alarming  rate.  The  Lieutenant  re 
quested  those  about  him  to  procure  a  carriage  and 
take  him  to  the  New  York  boat.  One  of  the 
gentlemen  who  had  been  active  and  useful  at  the 
moment  of  Lieutenant  Benners'  fainting,  proffered 
his  escort  and  services  until  such  time  as  the  sufferer 
should  be  safe  in  better  hands ;  which  offer  was  gladly 
accepted  by  the  invalid. 

"  Bronze,  "  who  had  made  a  careful  toilet,  was 
glad  to  see  the  Lieutenant  conscious  again.  She  got 
into  the  carriage  which  was  to  convey  them  to  the 
New  York  boat,  and  did  not  scruple  to  try  to  impress 
the  stranger  with  the  belief  that  she  was  a  charming 
young  woman ;  but  the  Lieutenant  was  in  too  great 
agony  to  care  what  she  did.  He  was  deathly  sick 
at  the  stomach,  his  foot  and  leg  were  constantly  in 
creasing  in  size,  and  the  pains  in  them  caused  repeated 
groans  to  escape  his  unwilling  lips. 

Just  as  the  boat  was  about  to  touch  her  pier,  she 
collided  with  a  tug.  There  was  a  bump  and  a  crash. 
Most  of  the  passengers  ran  screaming  about,  and 
when  the  landing  was  made  they  scrambled  ashore  as 
quickly  as  possible,  under  the  impression  that  the 
boat  would  surely  fill  and  go  down  to  the  bottom.  But 
the  Lieutenant  did  not  stir;  he  could  not,  he  was  too 

293 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

mortally  sick,  for  death,  in  any  form,  to  have  terrors 
for  him.  On  the  contrary,  anything,  even  death, 
which  would  have  put  an  end  to  his  sufferings,  would 
have  been  welcome. 

At  his  own  request,  they  summoned  a  carriage 
and  he  was  driven  to  a  hospital.  From  there  the 
Lieutenant  sent  "  Bronze  "  home  in  that  same  car 
riage.  Even  in  all  the  pain  he  suffered,  he  was  not 
forgetful  of  the  obligations  of  a  gentleman;  he 
thanked  "  Bronze  "  for  the  pleasure  of  her  company, 
expressed  his  regret  that  her  happiness  had  been 
marred  by  the  accident,  and  apologized  for  sending 
her  home  alone.  The  best  blood  of  the  F.  F.  Vs. 
was  not  in  his  veins  for  naught,  and  no  agony  that 
left  him  consciousness  could  make  him  forget  the 
obligations  he  owed  it. 

At  the  hospital  they  cut  off  his  clothes.  His 
right  limb  was  beet-red  and  swollen  to  twice  its 
normal  size,  the  swelling  extending  from  the  toes, 
clear  up  the  leg,  around  the  groins  and  over  the  kid 
neys.  A  fever  flush  had  now  removed  the  pallor  from 
his  lips  and  put  an  alarming  brightness  in  his  eyes. 
The  physicians  made  a  minute  examination  of  the 
patient.  On  the  right  knee  they  discovered  a  number 
of  small  red  marks,  of  even  a  deeper  red  than  the 
surrounding  parts.  These  marks  were  very  small 
indeed,  and  looked  as  if  they  might  have  been  made 
by  a  sharp-pointed  instrument,  perhaps  grooved,  and 
as  if  in  this  way  the  coloring  matter,  evidently  so 
virulent,  had  been  introduced  under  the  skin  and 
into  the  blood. 

394 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

To  their  questions  the  Lieutenant  could  tell  them 
nothing  except  that  he  had  been  swimming  in  deep 
water  at  Coney  .Island;  that  he  had  suddenly  been 
seized  with  a  sharp,  stinging  pain,  starting  from  the 
knee  and  extending  both  up  and  down  the  leg;  that 
he  had  supposed  this  pain  was  the  cramp  to  which 
swimmers  are  subject  at  times. 

The  doctors  eased  his  agony  as  best  they  could, 
and  treated  him  for  blood-poisoning.  The  limb  was 
swollen  to  an  enormous  size  and  was  such  a  peculiar 
beet-red,  that  the  physicians  at  the  hospital,  at  the 
Lieutenant's  request,  called  into  consultation  one  of 
New  York  City's  most  celebrated  specialists.  Then 
came  another  most  scrutinizing  examination,  the 
"  Benners'  Case "  having  awakened  the  greatest 
interest. 

This  last  physician  prescribed  an  ointment  with 
which  the  entire  limb  was  anointed.  In  four  or  five 
different  places  blisters  formed;  these  blisters  varied 
in  size  from  a  silver  dollar  to  a  twenty-five  cent  piece. 
They  broke  and  discharged,  seemingly,  only  the 
ordinary  water  which  comes  from  any  blister.  After 
that  the  swelling  gradually  subsided  and  the  fever 
went  down.  But  the  Lieutenant  had  suffered  so  many 
weeks  of  an  agony  which  was  almost  beyond  the 
power  of  human  endurance,  that  when  the  pain  left 
him,  he  lay  like  an  exhausted  babe,  with  scarce  the 
breath  of  life  in  him. 

In  those  trying  days  of  extreme  weakness,  the 
beauty  of  Lieutenant  Benners'  disposition  shone  forth 

295 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

in  all  its  glory ;  and  he  won  the  hearts  of  every  human 
being  in  the  hospital,  high  or  low,  whom  duty  called 
near  him.  Often  he  was  lonely,  and  over  his  mind 
floated  the  memory  of  past  happy  days.  He  thought 
of  the  time  when  he  was  afraid  he  had  contracted 
smallpox  or  some  other  loathsome  malady,  from 
that  old  Polish  Jew,  and  had  asked  Ola  if  he  should 
fall  ill  and  be  obliged  to  go  to  the  hospital,  whether 
she  would  come  to  see  him.  He  recalled  how 
promptly  she  had  told  him  she  would  go  to  any  place 
where  she  could  serve  him. 

"  The  dear  girl !  I  shall  never  know  another  like 
her.  I  hope  she  is  happy,  "  said  the  sick  man  to  him 
self. 

"  Bronze  "  had  never  been  to  see  him.  She  had 
written  occasionally  from  the  different  watering- 
places  where  she  was  flitting  away  those  days  of 
summer.  "  She  didn't  care  to  compromise  herself  by 
hanging  around  a  hospital,  and,  besides,  the  summer 
was  so  short,  and  there  were  so  many  places  to  go, 
so  many  new  faces  to  see.  The  Lieutenant  was 
pleasant  enough;  but,  at  the  best,  the  limit  of  his 
salary  was  small.  She  had  no  notion  of  making  her 
self  a  sister  of  the  Order  of  St.  Genevive,  to  be  cooped 
up  in  a  New  York  hospital  in  dog  days,  for  him,  or 
anybody  else.  Oh,  no!  She  could  do  better  than 
that. " 

After  the  severity  of  his  illness  was  over,  and 
Lieutenant  Benners  first  saw  the  reflection  of  his 
features  in  a  mirror,  he  scarce  knew  himself.  He  was 
wasted  to  the  merest  skeleton;  traces  of  the  suffer- 

296 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

ings  through  which  he  had  passed  were  stamped  for 
life  upon  his  once  handsome  face.  There  was  a  set 
tled  look  of  sorrow  and  resignation  in  the  eyes  and 
around  the  mouth.  He  had  almost  lost  the  use  of 
his  right  leg;  his  walking,  done  with  the  aid  of  a  stout 
cane,  was  slow,  labored,  painful.  When  he  left  the 
hospital  he  went  to  see  a  specialist. 

The  Lieutenant  decided  not  to  give  this  man  any 
particulars,  but  to  let  the  great  scientist  determine 
for  himself,  what  was  the  trouble;  so  he  simply 
said :  "  Doctor,  I  have  a  distressing  malady,  I  wish 
you  to  tell  me  what  it  is,  and  to  relieve  me  if  you 
can.  " 

"  All  right !  "  said  the  doctor,  "  Strip  off  and  let 
me  see  you  walk.  " 

The  Lieutenant  did  as  he  was  told,  and  the  doctor 
watched,  evidently  with  the  keenest  interest  and  the 
most  profound  perplexity,  his  patient's  slow  and  pain 
ful  marchings  up  and  down  the  room.  At  length 
the  doctor  said,  "  Sit  down  and  rest  a  few  moments." 
Then  after  a  pause,  "  Do  you  know  I  don't  know 
what  is  the  matter  with  you?  " 

The  Lieutenant  smiled  a  sad  ghost  of  a  smile,  but 
said  nothing.  The  doctor  continued,  "  Tell  me  how 
it  came  about.  " 

The  Lieutenant  recounted  the  story. 

"  That  settles  it,  "  said  the  doctor.  "  My  dear 
fellow,  put  on  your  clothes,  I  can  do  nothing  for  you. 
No  man  living  can  do  anything.  It  is  a  wonder  thai 
you  are  alive;  you  can  thank  your  excellent  constitu- 

297 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

tion,  and  not  medical  skill  for  it.     Few  indeed  have 
passed  through  what  you  have  and  escaped  with  life. 

"  The  sudden,  stinging  pain  you  felt  in  the 
knee,  the  great  swelling,  the  beet-red  color  which  the 
limb  assumed,  were  caused  by  a  wound  from  the  ser 
rated  spine  of  the  tail  of  a  fish  called  the  Sting  Ray. 
Those  found  in  the  British  seas  are  sometimes  called 
Fire  Flares.  Their  flesh  is  as  red  as  you  say  your 
limb  was.  They  are  everywhere  dreaded,  as  their 
wounds  cause  intense  inflammation  and  pain,  the 
victims  almost  universally  dying  of  blood-poisoning. 
They  are  found  in  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  around  the 
coast  of  Florida,  and  about  New  Orleans.  It  is  sel 
dom  one  comes  as  far  north  as  this.  I  can  do  nothing 
for  you,  no  man  living  can.  But  you  can  do  some 
thing  for  me.  " 

"  Anything  in  my  power,  "  said  the  Lieutenant. 

"  I  am  one  of  the  professors  of  the  Bellevue  Med 
ical  College.  Will  you  appear  before  the  school  and 
let  me  lecture  on  your  case?" 

A  faint  flush  mounted  to  Lieutenant  Benners' 
pale  cheek,  as  he  politely  but  firmly  said  to  this  great 
specialist,  "  I  must  beg  you  to  exctfse  me,  sir.  " 

"But  think;  I  never  before  had  such  a  case, 
never  may  again  in  my  lifetime, "  said  the  doctor. 

"  I  am  sorry,  but  I  must  beg  you  to  consider  my 
answer  positive  and  final,  said  the  Lieutenant. 

"You  are  quite  decided?"  urged  the  doctor. 

"  To    be    restored    to    my    former    health    and 
298 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

strength  I  might,  but  you  have  just  assured  me  that 
this  is  impossible.  The  combined  mints  of  the  entire 
world,  however,  never  turned  out  gold  enough  to  be 
the  smallest  inducement  to  me  to  do  so  for  any  other 
reason.  I  shall  pay  you,  and  have  the  honor,  sir,  to 
bid  you  good  day,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  all  his  South 
ern  pride  standing  up  in  arms. 

"  My  fee  is  ten  dollars, "  said  the  doctor,  feeling 
a  no  small  amount  of  contempt  for  this  man  who 
would  not  make  a  show  of  himself,  even  to  lend  lustre 
to  a  distinguished  son  of  Aesculapius. 

The  Lieutenant  paid  the  money  and  took  his  de 
parture,  carrying  with  him  an  equal  contempt  for  the 
celebrated  specialist. 

He  was  advised  to  go  to  Hot  Springs,  Arkansas, 
but  was  not  benefited ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  made 
worse  by  the  journey.  The  sight  of  so  many  sick  peo 
ple  affected  his  sympathetic  nature  and  refined  feel 
ings,  so  he  left  Hot  Springs  and  went  to  his  home 
in  Virginia. 

His  mother,  his  poor  mother,  was  heart-broken; 
his  sisters  wept  and  refused  to  be  comforted.  His 
mother  could  not  believe  her  son's  case  was  hopeless; 
he  must  go  to  Europe,  try  electricity,  the  Swedish 
Movement  Cure.  Some  one,  some  place,  could  and 
must  restore  her  boy  to  her  arms,  sound  and  well. 
He  went  to  London,  to  Paris,  to  Germany;  submitted 
himself  to  all  sorts  of  torture. 

In  Germany,  a  wrinkled  old  devotee  of  science 
confirmed  the  story  of  the  New  York  specialist  who 
had  first  told  him  of  the  String  Ray.  "Go  home,  my 

299 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

son,"  said  he,  "  do  not  be  a  victim  to  experimenters 
any  longer.  If  you  are  careful  of  yourself  you  may 
yet  die  of  old  age,  but  you  will  go  on  three  legs  as 
long  as  you  are  able  to  go  at  all.  Every  dose  of 
medicine  you  take  is  shortening  your  life.  Keep  your 
hands  and  feet  warm,  your  head  cool,  your  bowels 
open,  and  throw  medicine  to  the  dogs.  Science  is  a 
much  over-rated  dame,  she  can  do  little  for  any  one, 
nothing  for  you.  Go  home  to  your  mother,  my  boy, 
go  home  to  your  mother.  " 

And  the  Lieutenant  did  go  home  to  his  mother; 
and  there  he  stayed  until  she  died  and  his  sisters  both 
married.  Then,  the  old  place  having  lost  its  home 
feeling,  he  became  once  more  a  wanderer. 

The  greater  part  of  these  incidents,  subdued  by 
that  modesty  which  always  characterized  Lieutenant 
Benners,  he  wrote  to  the  "  Prince  "  from  time  to  time, 
and  from  such  various  parts  of  the  world  as  he  hap 
pened  to  be  in. 

After  he  had  resigned  all  hope  of  ever  being  cured, 
his  general  health  improved  a  trifle;  probably  be 
cause  of  the  fact  that  he  took  no  medicine  and  suf 
fered  no  anxiety.  The  blood-poisoning,  from  which 
only  his  perfect  health  and  vigorous  constitution  had 
prevented  his  dying,  had  so  shaken  his  whole  system 
that  he  would  always  be  delicate.  Still,  as  the  old 
German  doctor  told  him,  he  might  live  to  be  an  old 
man. 

In  former  times  he  used  to  think  that  marrying 
and  settling  down  was  a  kind  of  obligation  which 
iociety  imposes  on  all  good  people.  In  those  old  days 

300 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

he  said  he  intended  to  fulfill  this  obligation  sometime, 
but  there  was  no  hurry ;  forty-five  or  fifty  years  of  age 
would  be  young  enough  for  him  to  marry.  He  now 
regretfully  thought  that  he  ought  never  to  impose 
himself  on  a  wife.  The  quiet  fireside  for  which  he 
once  had  so  little  liking,  now  represented  his  only 
idea  of  happiness.  His  misfortunes  had  made  him  re 
construct  his  conceptions  of  what  is  the  better  part. 
But  alas,  it  was  too  late. 


301 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
The  Subjective    Likeness    and  the  Objective    Pastel. 

One  morning,  before  the  "Prince  "  started  down 
to  his  office  in  Wall  Street  to  begin  a  day  at  that 
business  to  which  he  was  so  attentive,  he  and  his  wife 
were  in  his  apartments.  York  held  in  his  hand  a 
photograph  of  Adrian  Benners,  taken  in  the  uniform 
of  a  lieutenant  in  the  navy.  There  were  a  great 
many  protographs  of  the  Lieutenant  around  the 
"  Prince's  "  rooms.  These  pictures  had  been  taken  at 
different  times  and  places. 

York  had  been  speaking,  with  feelings  of  most 
sympathetic  regret,  of  the  sad  news  contained  in 
Lieutenant  Benner's  last  letter — the  verdict  of  the  old 
German  professor  that  Adrian's  condition  was  hope 
less;  that  he  would  be  a  lifelong  cripple. 

Suddenly  an  idea  seemed  to  strike  the  "  Prince." 
Patting  his  wife's  cheek  softly  with  the  picture  he 
held  in  his  hand,  he  said,  "  My  darling,  you  have  not 
done  any  work  at  your  easel  for  some  time,  have 
you?" 

"  I  am  afraid  happy  women  are  not  apt  to  work, 
my  Prince,"  she  made  answer,  and  Ola  looked  at  her 
husband  that  she  might  enjoy  the  worshipful  look  he 
always  gave  her  in  return  for  the  endearing  expres 
sion,  "  my  Prince. "  When  they  were  alone  she 

302 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

never  called  him  anything  else ;  and  for  the  thousands 
of  times  she  had  bestowed  that  term  upon  him,  by 
which  she  had  taught  herself  to  think  of  him  in  the 
old  days  of  his  long  serving  and  waiting,  he  had  given 
her  as  many  thousand  worshipful  looks. 

"  Would  my  little  pet  like  to  do  something  for 
me?" 

Instantly  she  replied,  "  You  know  I  would.  " 

"  I  was  thinking  of  our  friend  Benners,  and  the 
great  misfortune  which  has  overtaken  the  poor  boy, 
and  I  would  so  like  to  have  a  fine  pastel  made  from 
this  photograph.  It  would  be  doubly  valuable  to 
me  if  done  by  your  hand.  " 

York  finished  this  sentence  with  a  rising  inflec 
tion,  as  though  he  were  asking  the  question,  "  Will 
you  do  it,  my  pet?  " 

His  wife  hesitated  an  instant;  only  an  instant. 
But  he  was  so  quick  to  notice  reluctance  on  her  part, 
so  unwilling  to  ask  an  unpleasant  work  at  her  hands, 
so  anxious  to  indulge  her  in  all  things — to  make  her 
life  a  perfect  Paradise,  that  he  said,  "  Well,  never 
mind,  darling,  I  know  pastel  making  is  awfully  dirty 
work.  I'll  give  the  order  to —  " 

"  No,  I  will  do  it  for  you,  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I'm 
afraid  my  hand  has  lost  its  cunning,  but  I'll  try.  I'll 
begin  the  preparations  to-day.  If  my  first  attempt 
does  not  suit  you,  I'll  try  again.  I  always  get  so 
many  valuable  suggestions  from  you,  that  I  am  in 
hopes  that  between  us  we  can  produce  something 
not  absolutely  without  merit.  I  should  work,  I  am  of 
no  more  use  in  the  world  than  a  bric-a-brac  woman/' 

303 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

and  she  looked  at  her  husband  with  a  half-indolent  de 
precation.- 

"Perhaps  a  little  labor  of  love  now  and  then 
might  be  well,  my  darling;  but  I  do  not  want  you  to 
tire  yourself  out,  nor  injure  your  health ;  so  you  must 
promise  me  you  will  take  this  work  moderately.  There 
is  no  hurry  about  it. " 

She  laughed  and  told  him  that  a  woman  who 
would  not  be  lazy  with  him  to  spoil  her,  deserved  a 
greater  fame  than  Rosa  Bonheur  ever  dreamed  of. 

He  was  happy.  He  kissed  her  brow;  held  her 
black  head  a  moment  between  his  hands,  then  said : 
"  Good-bye,  darling. "  He  ran  lightly  down  the 
stairs,  and  in  a  few  moments  she  heard  the  front 
door  close.  He  had  gone  to  his  occupation  of  making 
money  for  the  woman  he  loved.  This  was  the 
"  Prince's"  passion — money  to  spend  on  and  for  his 
wife;  money  for  her  to  spend  or  squander  as  she 
wished. 

Ola  held  the  photograph  of  Lieutenant  Benners 
in  her  hand  and  looked  at  it  long  and  rememberingly. 
She  had  wished  to  forget  the  man,  and  her  prolonged 
absence  from  him  had  worked  good  results  in  that 
direction.  But  now,  by  her  husband's  own  request, 
her  thoughts  must  turn  backward ;  be  forced  to  dwell 
on  that  dream  of  passion  from  which  she  had  awaken 
ed,  and  which  she  had  tried  to  forget. 

Still  looking  at  the  picture,  she  sank  down  on  a 
chair.  Wave  after  wave  from  the  ocean  of  memory 
rolled  up,  broke,  went  back  in  the  undertow  of  forget- 
fulness,  only  to  be  followed  by  another.  She  was 

304 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

again  "  the  woman  standing  at  the  window  and  look 
ing  up  at  the  stars,  "  again  she  distinctly  saw  the 
Lieutenant  approaching  her  old  home.  She  saw  the 
swaggering,  sea-motion  of  his  shoulders  which  had 
caused  her  first  thought  of  him  to  be :  "What  an  ugly 
walk  he  has !  " 

She  could  hear  him  say,  "  You  dear  girl,  I  am  so 
glad  to  find  you  at  home.  I  was  so  afraid  you  were 
out. " 

There  was  no  pang  of  guilt  in  these  memories,  in 
which,  in  fact,  the  wife  had  ceased  to  exist.  The  most 
minute  details  of  those  days  flooded  over  her.  She 
recalled  the  way  the  Lieutenant  had  gained  upon  her 
by  his  sweet,  tender  courtesy  to  all  with  whom  he 
came  in  contact.  She  remembered  one  occasion  upon 
which  he  had  silently  bought  an  evening  paper  of  one 
little  newsboy  who  boarded  their  car,  and  given  it 
away  to  the  next  dirty-faced  vendor  who  appeared. 
She  was  living  again  their  first  evening  at  the  theatre, 
and  the  jack  roses.  She  could  smell  those  roses  now, 
as  she  looked  at  the  photograph.  And  oh!  the  first 
time  he  kissed  her.  And,  just  as  if  he  had  done 
nothing  out  of  the  ordinary,  he  had  put  his  hand  on 
her  shoulder  and  looked  up  at  the  stars. 

Then  came  his  passion  for  her.  She  could  hear 
him  say :  "  Now,  dear,  when  I  am  gone,  don't  go  1.0 
reproaching  yourself,  and  feeling  regret.  You  have 
done  nothing  wrong.  You  might  give  your  love  and 
yourself  to  a  man  who  would  be  as  grateful  for  them 
as  I  am,  but  you  could  not  find  one  who  would  be 
more  grateful. " 

305 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

It  may  have  been  the  sad  news  in  Adrian's  letter 
to  her  husband,  but  it  was  none  the  less  remarkable 
that,  as  the  ocean  of  memory  rolled  up  in  wave  after 
wave,  and  those  waves  broke  and  went  back  in  the 
undertow  of  forgetfulness,  not  one  of  those  bitter, 
suspicious  feelings  from  which  she  had  once  suffered 
on  his  account  was  cast  up  upon  the  shore  of  her  con 
sciousness.  Only  his  boyish  joynessness,  only  his  gen 
tle  ways,  only  his  amorous  caresses,  only  his  warm  red 
Hps,  only  his  bright,  beautiful  eyes,  only  his  thank 
ful,  happy  way.  And  in  the  break  of  the  waves  here 
and  there,  came  softly  to  her  ears :  "  You  dear  girl ! 
You  are  just  as  neat  and  sweet  and  clean  as  you  can 
be, "  and  again  she  seemed  to  detect  that  balmy  odor 
of  pine  or  myrrh  which  seemed  to  permeate  every 
thing  that  belonged  to  him,  and  which  she  had  notic 
ed  on  the  first  letter  she  ever  received  from  him. 

All  these  thoughts  surged  upon  her  as  she  held 
the  photograph  of  Lieutenant  Benners  in  her  hand 
and  looked  so  rememberingly  at  it.  She  could  see 
the  coloring  of  youth  and  perfect  health  which  she 
knew  should  underlie  that  black  shadow  on  the  cheek. 
She  knew  how  red  the  lips  were,  she  could  see  them 
part  in  greeting  her.  But  no  artist  could  put  that 
keen,  boyish  expression  of  gratitude  for  appreciation 
into  those  beautiful  eyes. 

The  the  picture  changed;  it  assumed  various 
poses  and  attitudes.  She  rubbed  her  finger  gently 
over  the  shadow  sleeve  of  the  lieutenant's  uniform, 
and,  shadow  though  it  was,  she  could  feel  the  warm 
flesh  underneath.  She  could  feel  the  swell  of  the 

306 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

muscles  on  the  arm  just  below  the  shoulder  joint, 
which  she  had  told  him  was  so  like  a  woman's  arm. 
The  clock  ticked  on  and  the  minutes  grew  into 
hours;  but  she  did  not  move.  She  was  living  again 
her  life  with  Adrian  Benners;  and,  by  strange  mercy 
of  that  most  mercilness  of  all  tyrants,  Memory,  she 
was  living  the  happy  part  of  those  experiences  only. 
At  length,  with  the  same  joyous  surrender  to  the  in 
toxication  of  her  revery  which  she  had  once  yielded  to 
the  mesmeric  touch  of  Adrian  Benners,  she  pressed 
the  picture  to  her  lips,  and  fancied  the  cold  shadow 
was  awakened  into  life  and  was  warm  with  passion. 
Her  lips  parted  in  sweet  song: 

"  As  the  flight  of  a  river, 

That  flows  to  the  sea, 
My  soul  rushes  ever, 

In  tumult  to  thee; 
A  two-fold  existence, 

I  am  where  thou  art, 
My  heart  in  the  distance 

Beats  close  to  thy  heart. 
Look  up!    I  am  with  thee, 

I  gaze  on  thy  face; 
I  see  thee,  I  hear  thee 

I  feel  thy  embrace. " 

If  ever  human  soul  realized  the  power  of  thought 
to  incarnate  its  own  conceptions,  Ola  Del  did  at  that 
moment;  feeling  the  actual,  living  presence  of  the 
man  she  had  loved  so  fondly,  so  unreasoningly.  Her 
voice  was  flexible,  sympathetic;  her  musical  feeling 

307 


THAT  MAN  FROM   WALL  STREET 

tuned  to  an  almost  infinite  perfection,  her  imagina 
tion  as  boundless  as  the  universe.  These  endow 
ments  needed  no  vulgar  mechanism  constructed  by 
the  hand  of  man  to  transport  her  to  the  presence  of 
her  lover  and  put  her  in  perfect  accord  with  him. 
Rapturously  repeating  the  refrain, 

"  Look  up !  I  am  with  thee, 

I  gaze  on  thy  face, 
I  see  thee,  I  hear  thee, 

I  feel  thy  embrace.  " 

She  arose  joyfully  and  cried  out,  "  Yes,  my  love, 
I  will  keep  you!  You  shall  abide  with  me  forever! 
I  will  cast  your  shadow  in  pastel  and  crayon  and  oil. 
I  will  even  try,  if  I  can  do  so  from  memory,  to  model 
you  in  clay.  You  shall  abide  with  me  forever  and 
ever!" 

Her  intense  nature  was  aroused  and  she  threw 
herself,  body  and  soul,  into  her  work.  All  reluctance 
for  the  task  was  gone ;  she  was  not  alone  willing,  but 
enthusiastic.  Her  husband  came  home  and  found  her 
absorbed,  radiantly  happy.  Her  cheeks,  usually  GO 
pale,  were  flushed  and  her  eyes  sparkled  with  a  glad 
light.  He  looked  a  little  alarmed  and  begged  her  not 
to  tire  herself. 

"  This  is  a  labor  of  love,  "  she  exclaimed  "  and 
true  love  never  can  tire.  " 

And  he?  Never  since  he  had  known  her,  had  he 
loved  her  so  dearly.  In  all  his  subsequent  life  with 
her,  he  had  modeled  himself  by  the  pattern  she  first 
prescribed  to  him  at  the  time  when  she  so  feared  to 

308 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

arouse  passion  within  him,  lest  the  manifestation  of 
that  attribute  should  make  her  hate  him.  He  had  lov 
ed  her  with  a  pure  and  holy  love ;  such  complete 
control  did  he  have  of  himself,  so  much  did  he  ven 
erate  her,  that  if  for  any  legitimate  cause  it  had  been 
desirable  not  to  claim  a  husband's  rights,  he  still 
would  have  been  singly  and  devotedly  hers,  to  the 
end  of  his  life. 

It  never  had  occurred  to  the  "  Prince  "  to  think 
his  wife  was  cold  and  unresponsive  to  him.  She  was 
simply  modest,  as  a  wife  should  be.  Had  she  been  his 
mistress,  perhaps  her  reign  would  have  been  short. 
But  she  was  not  a  courtesan ;  she  was  his  wife,  modest, 
sweet,  wifely;  and  she  was  the  embodiment  of  his 
fancies,  the  realization  of  his  ideal.  In  his  eyes  she 
was  perfect;  and  this  conception  of  her  was  not  with 
out  reasonable  justification;  for  she  had  always  felt 
an  intense  gratitude  to  him,  and  the  fondest,  purest 
love. 

She  was  watchful  and  he  appreciative.  He  did 
not  dream  there  was  a  part  of  her  nature  asleep.  It  is 
not  what  a  man  has,  but  what  he  thinks  he  has,  which 
constitutes  his  happiness.  From  first  to  last,  Ola  had 
ever  impressed  upon  him  the  fact  (for  with  the  single 
exception  of  Lieutenant  Benners  it  was  a  fact)  that 
any  show  of  passion  from  a  man  was  loathsome  and 
disgusting  to  her. 

Her  excessive  modesty  and  purity  of  language  had 
made  him  worship  her.  He  was  so  constructed  by 
nature  that  to  worship  was  one  of  the  essentials  of 
his  existence.  He  could  no  more  have  lived,  in  the 

309 


THAT  MAN  FROM   WALL  STREET 

full  meaning  of  the  word,  without  some  outlet  for 
this  sentiment,  than  he  could  have  breathed  satisfac 
torily  with  an  insufficient  supply  of  oxygen  in  the  air. 

Memory  had  stirred  the  depths  of  her  soul  and 
flushed  her  cheek.  She  had  touched  her  lips  to  the  in 
toxicating  draught,  and  she  knew  not  how  to  put  it 
from  her.  She  was  happy,  and  her  joy  shone  upon 
all  her  features  and  her  husband  was  jubilant  be 
cause  he  attributed  her  elation  to  the  pleasure  she  felt 
in  doing  something  for  him.  She  was  in  high  spirits 
and  they  laughed  and  talked  gayly  about  the  pastel. 
He  told  her  he  was  going  to  put  it  in  a  "passe 
partout"  and  buy  an  elegant  easel  upon  which  to  stand 
it,  and  she  laughed  immoderately  at  the  incongruity 
of  the  idea.  When  they  went  down  to  dinner,  the 
same  subject  was  the  burden  of  their  conversation. 
Harold  York  never  drank  wine ;  by  some  idiosyncrasy 
of  his  nature  he  could  not.  But  the  doctors  had  told 
him  he  should  urge  his  wife  to  drink  a  little  every 
day.  She  was  a  nervous,  restless  temperament,  pre 
disposed  to  weak  lungs,  with  occasionally  a  some 
what  alarming  cough.  He  went  to  no  end  of  trouble 
and  pains  to  get  wines  which  he  believed  to  be  pure 
for  her.  As  a  general  thing  Ola  objected  to  drink, 
•ipping  just  a  little  to  please  him. 

This  evening,  however,  she  was  excited;  and, 
while  chatting  and  laughing  with  her  husband,  with 
out  in  the  least  knowing  what  she  was  doing,  she 
drank  all  the  butler  put  in  her  glass.  The  "  Prince  " 
laughed  at  her  and  told  her  if  she  kept  on  improving 
at  that  rate,  he  would  have  to  carry  the  key  of  the 

310 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

wine-cellar  himself  before   many  months. 

As  they  went  upstairs  he  playfully  put  his  arm 
around  her  waist,  making  some  joke  about  steadying 
her.  She  tried  a  few  chords  on  her  piano,  but  she 
could  not  play,  and  walked  nervously  up  and  down 
her  suite  of  apartments.  Then  both  of  them,  seem 
ingly  impelled  by  one  desire,  went  out  of  her  rooms 
into  those  of  her  husband — around  which  Were 
scattered  the  photographs  of  Lieutenant  Benners. 
Here  they  sat  upon  a  tete-a-tete,  chattering  and 
chirping  as  senselessly  and  happily  as  two  young 
birds. 

"  Darling,  the  gas  is  so  glaring,  "  he  said,  "  shall 
we  lower  it  a  little?" 

"  Do.  Put  it  way  down.  I  am  not  afraid  of  the 
dark  if  I  have  you  to  protect  me.  " 

"  What  a  great  boy  am  I  ?  "  said  Mr.  York,  look 
ing  around  laughingly  at  his  wife. 

Lower,  lower,  he  turned  the  gas,  until  all  in  the 
room  was  covered  with  grey  shadow;  then  he  re 
turned  to  her  side  and  passed  his  arm  around  her 
waist,  telling  her  in  his  simple  little  monotonous  way, 
how  dear  she  was  to  him;  how  much  he  wished  to 
make  her  happy ;  how  her  spirit  was  ever  present  with 
him.  To  Ola's  fancy,  as  her  husband  talked  on,  the 
tones  of  his  voice  changed,  he  lost  his  New  York  in 
flection  and  accent.  In  its  place  came  what  she  had 
termed,  in  Lieutenant  Benners,  his  "  Southern  Con- 
fedracy  "  accent,  that  which  belongs  to  those  of  the 
sweet,  balmy  South.  She  could  easily  detect  a 
strange  odor  about  her  husband's  clothes.  It  was  the 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

aromatic,  piney  odor  which  always  scented  Adrian's 
possessions. 

Back,  back,  back,  into  the  ocean  of  memory  she 
floated.  Without  in  the  least  thinking  of  what  she 
was  doing,  she  put  both  her  arms  around  her  hus 
band's  neck,  drew  him  close  to  her,  kissed  his  lips  and 
said,  with  a  passion  she  had  never  before  shown  to 
him,  "  My  Love,  my  Love !  I  am  so  glad  I  have 
you.  Have  you  been  true  to  me  since  we  have  been 
separated  ?  " 

The  "  Prince  "  was  in  ecstacies ;  and  she  was  so 
deep  in  the  past  that  she  was  unconscious  even  that 
he  lived.  Her  husband  began  to  pull  the  pins  out 
here  and  there,  but  she  made  no  protest  He  took 
down  her  beautiful  black  hair ;  she  was  dreamily  com 
placent.  She  let  him  do  with  her  as  he  would. 

For  the  first  time  since  they  had  been  married, 
her  own  apartments  were  tenantless  until  the  morn 
ing. 

The  next  day  and  the  next  and  for  many  days 
thereafter  Ola  worked  on  the  pastel  of  Lieutenant 
Benners,  always  eagerly,  always  lovingly,  always 
vividly  remembering.  She  seemed  well  and  happy,  she 
did  not  grow  tired  of  her  work  nor  impatient  with  it. 
Each  day  the  roots  of  the  love  her  husband  felt  for 
her,  struck  deeper  and  deeper  into  his  heart.  He 
talked  to  her,  encouraged  her,  praised  her  progress. 
Before  she  began  working  on  this  pastel  of  Lieutenant 
Benners,  the  "  Prince  "  had  thought  her  perfect ;  but, 
without  knowing  why  she  did  or  how  she  could  have 
done  so,  she  had  surely  added  to  herself  another 

312 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

charm ;  and  her  husband  regretted  it  when  he  saw 
that  the  picture  was  nearly  finished. 

After  he  had  framed  it  appropriately  and  put  it 
on  its  beautiful  easel,  they  stood  in  front  of  it,  admir 
ing  her  work.  The  husband  was  lavish  with  his 
praise,  and  Ola  was  proud;  for  the  likeness  was  per 
fect  and  striking.  In  all  except  his  black  hair,  the 
Lieutenant  was  an  admirable  subject  for  work  in 
pastel.  The  flesh-tints  of  his  face  were  rich  and 
beautiful ;  his  eyes  were  dark  blue  and  the  naval  uni 
form  looked  soft  and  rich. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  try  a  crayon  head  from 
this  profile?"  said  the  "Prince."  "It  would  just 
fit  that  spot  on  the  wall  over  that  mosaic  table." 

So  at  the  crayon  Ola  went  to  work,  and  was  as 
happy  and  enthusiastic  it  its  creation  as  she  had 
been  over  the  one  in  colors.  On  the  crayon  how  care 
ful  she  was  to  make  no  stroke  amiss,  for  there  was 
no  putting  those  black  marks  in,  and  rubbing  them 
out;  if  they  were  unsatisfactory,  they  must  stay. 

The  "  Prince  "  had  no  use  for  Heaven ;  he  lived 
in  Paradise  every  day  of  his  life — every  day  and  hour 
and  minute. 

He  was  going  to  be  a  father. 

How  carefully  he  scrutinized  every  investment 
he  made ;  he  must  get  more  money  that  his  child  could 
be  rich.  In  his  own  mind  Mr.  York  had  quite  settled 
it  that  this  baby  would  be  a  daughter.  Ola  wondered 
at  this,  and  to  her  questionings  he  replied,  "  Oh,  you 
can  love  a  little  girl  so  much  more  than  you  can  a 
boy.  " 

313 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

Had  he  expressed  exactly  the  shadowy  wish 
which  was  in  his  heart,  he  would  have  said :  "  I  want 
a  daughter  that  she  may  remind  me  of  you. " 

Ola  worked  on  and  on,  reproducing  Lieutenant 
Benners,  in  one  form  or  another  for  almost  the  entire 
time.  At  her  easel  or  at  her  piano,  playing  over  the 
simple  music  Adrian  had  fancied,  for  she  used  to 
tell  him  his  taste  in  music  was  shockingly  plebeian, 
she  lived  with  him,  dreamed  of  him,  steeped  her  whole 
soul  in  the  memory  of  his  soft  words  and  caresses; 
walked  in  a  happy  trance. 

She  did  not  even  buy  the  infant's  wardrobe.  The 
"  Prince  "  did  that,  and  he  sent  home  enough  for  a 
foundling  asylum.  If  there  was  ever  anything  in 
the  shape  of  a  luxury  that  mortal  man  had  invented 
for  those  little  household  tyrants,  babies,  be  sure  the 
"  Prince  "  sent  it  home  for  the  prospective  daughter. 
And  to  his  wife  came  slippers  and  gowns  beyond 
number.  He  was  an  excellent  judge  of  drygoods, 
having  in  his  younger  days  served  a  long  apprentice 
ship  with  A.  T.  Stewart. 

When  the  baby  came,  it  was  a  boy. 

Ola  expressed  her  regret  to  her  husband  that  he 
should  have  been  disappointed,  but  he  said,  "  Never 
mind,  darling!  He  shall  be  your  little  lover  and  my 
'  Co.'  And,  sweet,  since  it  is  a  boy,  if  you  have  no 
objection,  we  will  name  him  for  my  poor  friend  Ben 
ners.  If  the  baby  had  been  a  girl,  nothing  could  have 
saved  it  from  bearing  your  dear  name;  but  it  doesn't 
matter  much  what  boys  are  called,  and  Benners  is 
such  a  noble  fellow,  such  a  gentleman,  poor  boy ! " 

3H 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

The  "  Prince  "  never  could  reconcile  himself  to 
the  Lieutenant's  misfortune. 

Ola  looked  at  her  husband  and  murmured  some 
words  of  affection.  Then  raising  herself  gently,  she 
took  the  child  in  her  arms,  and,  holding  the  little 
pink  fingers  in  her  own  white  hand,  she  kissed  them. 
Tears  of  love  and  gratitude,  forced  to  her  eyes  by 
overflowing  maternal  joy,  dropped  on  the  little  face. 

Thus,  and  thus  only,  was  the  "  Prince's "  son 
christened  and  baptized.  Christened  Adrian  Benners 
York,  in  token  of  his  father's  appreciation  of  the  win 
ning  ways  of  Lieutenant  Benners,  and  baptized  with 
his  mother's  tears!  Appropriate,  oh,  most  appropriate 
baptism ! 

The  child  grew  and  prospered  and  brought 
peace  to  his  mother,  and  pride  to  his  father's  heart. 
At  seven  years  of  age  he  was  the  living  miniature  of 
Lieutenant  Benners,  whose  soul-child  he  was. 


315 


CHAPTER     XXIX. 
"Oh.  Adrian!    Adrian!" 

"Is  Mr.  York  in?" 

"I  think  he  is.  What  name  sir,  if  you  please?" 
said  Joe.  Mr.  York  made  use  of  Joe  as  a  sort  of 
Cerberus  to  guard  the  outer  door  of  his  offices  lest 
any  profitless  spinner  of  yarns  should  take  up  his 
valuable  time. 

"  Benners.  It  is  just  as  well,  perhaps,  if  you  say 
Lieutenant  Benners. " 

Joe  took  the  name  in,  and  the  "  Prince "  in 
stantly  excused  himself  to  the  gentleman  with  whom 
he  was  negotiating  for  a  block  of  bonds,  and  came 
out  to  greet  his  old  friend.  Mr.  York  halted  an  in 
stant;  but,  recovering  his  presence  of  mind  before 
his  hesitation  became  marked  or  noticeable,  he 
stepped  quickly  outside  and  exclaimed,  "  Why,  my 
dear  old  fellow,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you!  Come 
right  into  my  private  office."  And  he  held  the  gate 
open  for  Lieutenant  Benners  to  pass  in. 

It  was  no  wonder  the  "  Prince "  almost  failed 
to  recognize  his  friend;  the  wonder  was  that  he  re 
covered  his  self-possession  so  soon,  for  the  man  who 
now  stood  before  him,  leaning  so  heavily  upon  a 
stout  cane,  bore  little  resemblance  to  the  handsome 
naval  officer  he  had  known  and  liked  so  well  but  a 
few  years  ago.  Lieutenant  Benners'  face  was  pale, 

316 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

his  cheeks  and  eyes  sunken ;  a  sad  smile  occasionally 
hovered  around  his  pale  lips,  once  so  full  and 
red.  His  neck  was  thin  and  the  tendons  stuck  out 
conspicuously;  the  flesh  was  gone  from  his  hands 
and  wrists  and  the  white  skin  had  settled 
over  the  bones,  making  the  tracings  of  the  blue  veins 
easy  to  follow.  The  Lieutenant  was  lame,  pitifully 
lame.  He  could  raise  his  left  foot  a  trifle,  but  he 
leaned  upon  his  cane,  and  pushed  his  right  foot  along 
on  the  floor;  or  sometimes,  by  a  movement  from  his 
hip,  he  threw  it  around  and  forward  a  trifle. 

In  the  old  days  Ola  had  so  rejoiced  in  what  she 
called  the  trinity  of  his  youth,  and  health,  and  beauty. 
Alas,  for  the  destruction !  It  was  enough  to  make  the 
most  indifferent  weep.  If  youth,  and  health,  and 
beauty  form  the  most  perfect  trinity  of  a  glorious 
manhood,  what  an  ill-matched  pair  are  youth  and 
disease. 

Pitiful !  pitiful !  pitiful !  the  shadows  had  settled 
over  his  life  at  high  noon. 

In  the  prime  and  vigor  of  his  manhood,  death 
had  challenged  him  to  a  mortal  combat;  and  now  by 
fractional  portions  of  a  drop,  his  blood  was  leaving 
him  day  by  day,  hour  by  hour,  his  vital  forces  waning 
with  each  breath  he  drew.  In  the  olden  times  he 
had  lived  for  the  joys  of  the  flesh.  What  did  his  life 
mean  to  him  now?  In  the  olden  times  his  advice  to 
Ola  had  been,  do  this,  or  that,  or  the  other,  and  you 
will  live  longer.  Now,  life  meant  resignation  to  him. 

And  this  blow  had  been  given  to  him  in  a  merry 
hour,  from  a  source  from  which  he  could  have  the 

317 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

least  expected  it.  Sporting  with  gay,  frivolous  com 
panions,  he  had  been  brought  low,  and  thus  was  he 
taught  the  value  of  a  love  which  will  remain  stead 
fast  through  the  silent  watches  of  nights  of  pain. 
Where  now  was  that  love?  Where?  Where  were 
the  gay  companions  of  those  merry-making  days? 
They  were  still  alive,  still  gay,  and  they  were  still 
merry-making  with  those  who  could  make  merry 
with  them.  And  that  love  which  would  have  re 
mained  steadfast  through  the  silent  watches  of  nights 
of  pain  had  found  a  haven  of  rest. 

The  "  Prince  "  begged  the  gentleman  with  whom 
he  was  negotiating  for  a  block  of  bonds  to  excuse 
him  until  the  next  day.  This  was  a  great  compliment 
to  Lieutenant  Benners.  It  was  not  everybody  for 
whom  Mr.  York  would  set  aside  the  negotiations  for  a 
block  of  bonds.  The  "  Prince  "  chatted  a  moment  or 
two  to  his  old-time  favorite  but  felt  himself  somewhat 
circumscribed.  He  could  not  talk  bonds  to  the  Lieu 
tenant,  so  he  drifted  into  almost  the  only  other  subject 
with  which  he  was  at  perfect  ease — that  of  his  wife 
and  child. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  up  to  the  house  and  take 
lunch  with  Ola,"  he  said.  "This  is  rather  an  uncomfor 
table  place  to  stay.  I  get  home  pretty  early,  then 
we  will  have  a  most  enjoyable  family  reunion  this 
evening.  I  will  ring  Ola  up  on  the  telephone  and 
ask  her  to  send  one  of  the  carriages  down  for  you.  " 

The  Lieutenant  begged  the  "  Prince "  not  to 
go  to  so  much  trouble,  as  he  could  just  as  well  take 
the  street  cars. 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

"No  trouble  at  all,"  said  the  "Prince."  "I 
speak  to  her  for  a  few  moments  every  day,  about  this 
time.  You  see  I  like  to  know  how  she  and  the  boy 
are  getting  along.  That's  the  greatest  boy  in  New 
York,  Benners.  He's  as  handsome  as  they  make  'em. 
As  to  the  horses,  you  will  be  doing  me  a  favor  if 
you  make  plenty  of  use  of  them.  Ola  calls  our  car 
riages  and  horses  bothersome  gauds  and  vanities. 
She  starts  out  with  the  boy  and  nurse;  when  they 
reach  the  park,  she  makes  the  coachman  stop;  then 
she  jumps  out,  throws  her  heavy  wraps  back  into 
the  carriage,  takes  out  the  child,  throws  his  furs  back 
into  the  carriage,  sends  the  coachman  off,  giving  him 
his  instructions  how  long  to  be  gone.  Then  the  maid 
lolls  back  in  the  carriage,  enjoying  the  ride  and  the 
distinction  of  being  occasionally  pointed  out  as  my 
wife ;  while  Ola  is  thought  the  nurse  girl  of  her  own 
child.  She  and  that  boy  romp,  play  tag,  and  foot-ball, 
around  the  park  until  the  coachman  returns  and  picks 
them  up.  Did  I  ever  tell  you  the  trick  she  played  on 
me  about  the  horse  and  phaeton  I  sent  her  before  we 
were  married?  " 

"  I  think  not, "  said  the  Lieutenant,  and  he  smiled 
at  the  "  Prince's  "  garrulous,  uxorious  verbosity. 

"  Well,  you  see  that  was  when  Ola  was  working 
and  studying  a  great  deal  too  hard.  She  got  pale 
and  thin,  and  she  was  most  awfully  troubled  with 
insomnia.  After  a  great  deal  of  coaxing,  I  persuaded 
her  to  let  me  send  her  this  horse.  I  had  picked  up 
a  pretty  good  old  plug  that  I  thought  wouldn't  cut 
up  any  tricks  with  her,  and  I  am  not  a  mean  judge  of 

319 


THAT  MAN  FROM   WALL   STREET 

horse  flesh.  Said  I,  '  Now,  darling,  this  horse  must 
be  exercised  every  day,  if  the  weather  permits.  Other 
wise,  he  will  get  sick.'  Well,  she  promised  me  the 
horse  should  be  exercised  every  day,  and  she  kept  her 
word,  but  you  will  never  guess  how  she  did  it.  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  could, "  said  Lieutenant  Ben- 
ners ;  and  he  could  not  help  enjoying  the  "  Prince's  " 
enthusiasm  in  reciting  these  trivialities. 

"  Why,  she  kept  a  regular  theatrical  date  book 
for  that  horse. " 

Here  the  "  Prince "  laughed  heartily,  and  the 
Lieutenant,  out  of  sheer  sympathy,  joined  in  mildly. 
Their  mirth  at  an  end,  the  "  Prince "  continued, 
"Yes,  sir;  in  a  neat  little  book  (it  was  a  fancy  cal 
endar,  with  an  opposite  blank  for  remarks)  she  had 
the  hours  the  horse  and  phaeton  were  engaged  for, 
and  who  was  to  drive  him.  She  always  allowed  him 
to  be  used  upon  the  condition  that  should  the  stable- 
keeper  report  any  abuse  of  the  animal,  this  should 
be  deemed  a  just  reason  for  not  lending  him  to  that 
inhumane  person  again,  see?  " 

The  Lieutenant  bowed,  in  token  that  he  did  see, 
and  then  he  said,  "  But  how  did  you  learn  this?" 

"  Yes,  I'm  coming  to  that.  You  see  Ola  did  not 
improve  any,  and  I  began  to  think  my  horse  a  bad 
investment;  thought  maybe  he  was  too  poky  and  re 
liable  even  for  a  woman  to  enjoy;  so  I  wrote  Ola  a 
note  and  asked  her  to  be  at  home  that  afternoon 
about  four,  as  I  wanted  her  to  take  me  out  in  her 
phaeton  to  look  at  some  property  I  was  thinking  of 

320 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

buying,  and  which  I  wanted  her  to  see.  I  generally 
talked  to  her  about  my  investments.  You  see  I 
wanted  to  get  her  views.  At  the  first  glance  at  any 
thing,  her  opinion  is  good.  Well,  we  went;  and 
when  we  got  home  I  noticed  that  she  looked  better, 
and  the  horse  really  wasn't  so  bad.  You  see  a  man 
has  to  be  pretty  careful  of  the  woman  he  loves.  I 
drove  around  to  the  stable  and  got  to  talking  with 
the  keeper,  when  bless  me,  if  he  didn't  let  the  whole 
thing  out,"  and  the  "  Prince  "  laughed  again,  as  he 
thought  of  these  trifles. 

"  I  did  not  know  but  Miss  Thome  had  told 
you—" 

"Nell?"  said  the  "Prince"  in  astonishment. 
"  Not  much !  Nell  likes  me,  I  know  she  does.  But 
wild  horses  couldn't  drag  anything  out  of  her  that 
she  thought  Ola  did  not  want  her  to  tell.  After  that 
I  knew  what  I  had  to  do,  I  made  it  my  business  to 
see  that  Ola  got  an  airing  every  day.  Finally  she 
began  to  suspect,  and  she  launched  right  into  the  mat 
ter  and  made  me  confess.  Do  you  know  I  felt  like  a 
sneak,  when  I  told  her  what  the  livery-stable  man 
had  said;  but  the  little  angel  was  just  as  sweet  as 
she  could  be. 

"  She  pretended  not  to  notice  my  confusion ;  but 
sat  down  on  a  hassock  at  my  feet,  and  looking  up 
at  me  she  said,  '  You  do  not  know  how  ashamed 
I  feel,  to  think  I  could  neglect  any  request  from  you; 
for  you  have  always  been  so  good,  so  noble,  so  every 
thing,  to  lift  my  soul  up  to  holy  things.  If  you  can 
and  will  forgive  me  for  this,  I  will  try  not  to  let 

321 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

even  a  semblance  of  deception  mar  my  conduct  to 
ward  you  again.' 

"  Then  she  put  he*  hands  on  my  knees  and  looked 
up  at  me  with  tears  in  her  big  eyes.  I  tell  you  I  felt 
as  if  about  ten  years  in  Sing  Sing  at  breaking  stones, 
would  be  letting  me  off  easy.  Ola  likes  to  walk,  but 
she  detests  a  carriage.  Now  I'll  just  call  her  up  on 
the  telephone  and  have  her  send  for  you. " 

The  Lieutenant  saw  that  he  could  not  escape,  so 
he  made  no  further  protest. 

He  had  never  seen  Ola  since  the  night  she  had 
left  him  at  "  Bronze's  "  door.  She  had  been  married 
shortly  after  that,  and  at  the  time  of  her  marriage  the 
"  Grant "  was  off  on  a  cruise.  Then  Ola  and  her 
husband  had  spent  the  summer  in  Europe,  and  be 
fore  they  returned,  the  accident  which  made  him  a 
cripple  for  life  had  occurred ;  after  that  he  had  traveled 
from  place  to  place,  in  the  hope  of  getting  cured.  So, 
quite  easily  and  naturally,  his  going  out  of  her  life 
could  be  accounted  for. 

The  "  Prince  "  at  the  telephone  said  to  his  wife : 
"Are  you  all  right,  darling?" 

"  Yes,  thank  you, "  came  the  answer. 

"And  the  Lieutenant?" 

"  He  is  very  busy  making  Mamma's  portrait.  He 
has  turned  down  the  corners  of  my  mouth  in  a  de 
cidedly  "Micky  "  fashion,  and  given  one  of  my  eyes 
a  most  pronounced  Ben  Butler  cast,  but  these  trifles 
sink  into  utter  insignificance  when  compared  with  the 
worry  of  getting  the  hair  to  suit  him,"  said  Ola  over 
the  telephone. 

322 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

The  "  Prince  "  repeated  all  these  answers  to  Lieu 
tenant  Benners,  under  the  comforting  delusion  that 
any  item  about  his  wife  and  child  would  be  of  interest 
to  his  friend. 

"  Tell  the  boy  to  give  his  art  a  rest,  and  get  into 
the  carriage  and  come  down  to  the  office  and  I  will 
present  him  to  his  namesake, "  said  the  "  Prince. " 
Then  he  bade  his  wife  a  most  affectionate  good-bye, 
charging  her  to  be  sure  to  keep  Lieutenant  Benners 
a  close  prisoner  until  he  should  come  home.  Mr.  York 
dismissed  finance  from  his  mind  for  the  time  being, 
by  charging  Joe  not  to  disturb  him  while  his  friend 
the  Lieutenant  was  with  him.  The  carriage  arrived 
with  the  child  and  his  nurse.  The  proud  father  pre 
sented  the  ex-Lieutenant  and  the  would-be  Lieutenant 
to  each  other,  and  the  two  at  once  settled  down  into 
a  most  comfortable  admiration  of  each  other.  The 
little  fellow  did  not  know  quite  as  much  about  ships, 
as  his  namesake  did,  but  he  thought  he  knew  more,  so 
that  balanced  matters. 

Arrived  at  the  house,  the  nurse  took  the  child  up 
stairs  to  remove  his  wraps,  and  Ola  went  down  into 
the  drawing-room  to  meet  Lieutenant  Benners,  who, 
she  comfortingly  assured  herself,  was  now  simply  her 
friend,  and  even  more  her  husband's  friend  than  he 
was  her  own.  When  she  entered  the  room,  the  Lieu 
tenant  arose  from  the  chair  upon  which  he  had  been 
seated,  to  greet  her.  For  the  instant  she  did  not 
recognize  him;  then^all  the  pitiful  truth  rushed  upon 
her,  and,  groaning.  "  Oh  !  Adrian  !  Adrian  !  "  she 
sank  upon  a  couch  near  the  door,  and  buried  her  face 

323 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

in  her  hands,  as  if  thus  to  shut  out  and  remove  at 
one  and  the  same  time  the  view  and  the  fact. 

How  often  in  the  old  days  of  their  love,  had  Lieu 
tenant  Benners  reproved  her  for  always  addressing 
him  by  his  title.  To  say  "  Adrian "  to  him  then, 
seemed  a  familiarity  which  came  not  easily  to  her 
tongue.  But  now,  that  her  yearning  heart  ached  for 
the  wreck,  the  name  sprang  instinctively  to  her  lips. 

Men  boast  that  they  are  the  strong,  are  the  pro 
tectors  of  the  weak.  It  is  an  ungracious  enough  task 
to  detract  from  what  a  man  really  is  worth ;  it  is  pain 
ful  to  be  obliged  to  prove  to  him  that  he  assumes  a 
virtue  which  he  possesses  not — but,  gentlemen,  the 
protective  feeling  is  stronger  in  the  woman  than  in 
the  man ;  stronger  in  the  girl,  than  in  the  boy ; 
stronger  in  the  female  of  almost  all  the  higher  orders 
of  animal  life,  than  in  the  male;  and  is  but  the  man 
ifestation  of  the  maternal  instinct.  Watch  the  chil 
dren  playing  on  the  street,  the  sister  will  run  to  pick 
up  her  brother,  wipe  away  his  tears,  bind  up  his 
wounds.  But  the  brother?  Oh,  he  looks  carelessly 
around,  and  if  his  sister  is  not  seriously  hurt,  he  lets 
the  other  girls  attend  to  her  while  he  keeps  on  with 
his  sport. 

Look,  now,  down  upon  that  court,  or  square  in 
which  the  children  from  the  rear  tenements  are  play 
ing.  They  are  the  children  of  the  poor;  not  the 
squalid,  abject  poor,  but  of  the  laborer,  the  mechanic. 
Among  the  number  there  are  a  little  boy  and  girl  of 
about  four  years  of  age ;  they  are  twins,  and  between 
these  children  there  is  a  most  beautiful  and  remark- 

324 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

able  affection,  of  great  strength.  They  are  seldom 
separated  from  each  other,  and  it  is  a  study  to  watch 
their  actions. 

The  girl  pets,  caresses,  waits  upon,  worships  her 
brother.  She  loves  him  because  she  can  pet,  caress 
and  wait  upon  him ;  and  he  loves  her  because  she 
does  so.  If  any  of  the  children  abuse  the  little  boy, 
the  first  thing  the  sister  does  is  to  raise  her  little  hand 
and  slap  the  offender.  Then  she  will  go  up  to  her 
brother  and  kiss  him ;  she  will  brush  the  blonde  curls 
out  of  his  eyes;  with  her  dirty  little  apron  she  will 
wipe  away  the  tears  from  his  cheeks.  The  affection 
between  them  is  beautiful  to  see;  but  it  is  ever 
marked  with  these  distinctive  and  distinguishing  dif 
ferences.  She  loves  him  because  she  can  pet,  caress 
and  wait  upon  him ;  and  he  loves  her  because  she  does 
pet,  caress  and  wait  upon  him. 

These  are  the  feelings  Nature  plants  within  the 
breast  and  the  masculine  assumption  of  a  protective 
instinct  is  merely  an  assumption.  It  is  simply  the 
improvement  which  civilization,  enlightenment  and  re 
finement  have  made  in  the  animal  man.  The  savage 
beats  his  squaw  and  makes  her  carry  the  burden; 
but  she  loves  him  and  dresses  the  wounds  he  has 
received  while  on  the  war-path. 

The  gentleman  courteously  raises  the  portieres 
for  his  wife  to  pass  out,  and  carries  her  most  trifling 
.bundle  for  her;  but  the  gentlewoman  also  goes  to  the 
seat  of  war  to  nurse  her  wounded  husband.  And  the 
first  real,  refreshing  sleep  the  general  has  after  he  is 
wounded,  is  when  he  knows  his  wife,  upon  whom  he 

325 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

can  rely,  is  there  beside  him.  There  will  be  no  mis 
takes  now;  so  he  sleeps.  Civilization,  culture,  re 
finement,  have  taught  the  man  he  must  not  wrong  his 
physical  inferior,  whether  that  inferior  be  male  or 
female.  But  the  instinct  is  in  him  to  dominate,  as  it 
is  in  her  to  serve;  as  witness  the  brutality  of  hus 
bands  in  the  lower  walks  of  life — those  men  who 
have  furnished  the  novelist  with  models  for  such 
characters  as  "  Bill  Sykes.  " 

When  Ola  saw  her  once  glorious  lover  standing 
before  her  such  a  physical  wreck  that  the  merest 
^hild  could  have  slain  him,  all  the  tender,  caressing, 
maternal  instincts  that  are  born  with  and  of  femi 
ninity,  welled  up  in  her  heart ;  and,  as  purely  as  his 
own  mother  could  have  wept  for  him,  she  sank  down 
on  the  couch  and  gave  vent  to  her  sorrow  in  that 
groan  of  agony. 

The  Lieutenant,  slowly,  painfully,  with  the  aid 
of  his  stout  staff,  made  his  way  to  her,  and  putting  his 
white  hand  gently  on  her  black  curls,  said,  "  Oh,  you 
poor  dear  girl !  It  was  an  awful  shock  to  you,  was 
it  not  ?  I  thought  you  knew. " 

"  I  did  know,  but—" 

"  But  you  did  not  think  it  was  so  bad,  I  see.  I 
understand.  In  a  little  time  you  will  become  more 
accustomed  to  my  appearance. " 

Lieutenant  Benners  had  written  to  the  "  Prince,  " 
telling  of  his  hopeless  lameness,  and  of  course  Ola 
knew  of  it.  But,  by  the  fortunate  possessor  of  sight, 
the  eye  is  so  trusted,  so  relied  upon  for  impressions, 
that  it  is  well  nigh  impossible  to  gain  a  realistic  idea 

326 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

from  a  pen-picture.  You  hear  that  a  friend,  whom 
you  last  saw  in  perfect  health,  is  dying,  is  wasted  to 
the  merest  skeleton.  You  hasten  to  his  bedside,  but 
you  are  almost  as  much  shocked  as  you  could  have 
been  had  you  been  ushered  in  upon  him  totally  un 
prepared.  Intellectually,  you  knew  of  the  waste;  but 
the  picture  left  in  your  mind,  the  one  to  which  your 
fond  heart  turned,  was  of  that  friend  in  full  health  and 
strength. 

Ola  knew  that  the  Lieutenant  was  lame;  knew 
that  he  walked  with  a  cane;  knew  that  he  was  much 
reduced  in  flesh ;  but  memory,  tender  and  merciful, 
always  painted  her  a  picture  of  a  symmetrical,  glori 
ously  perfect  man,  all  his  physical  being  throbbing 
with  the  rapture  of  living.  And  now,  what  was  be 
fore  her?  Her  recollection  of  that  in  which  her  lover 
had  once  stood  unrivaled,  was  dead,  cruelly  slain  by 
that  one  look  upon  the  ravages  disease  had  made  in 
him. 

He  sat  on  the  couch  beside  her  and  talked  to 
her  with  that  low,  sweet,  musical  voice.  He  told  her 
how  for  a  long  time  he  had  hoped  he  might  recover; 
how  he  had  traveled  all  over  Europe  and  consulted 
most  of  the  celebrated  physicians  of  the  Old  World; 
how  he  had  at  last  most  reluctantly  accepted  the 
verdict  which  consigned  him  to  a  life-long  invalidism. 
He  said  his  two  sisters  were  married,  happily  mar 
ried,  in  their  old  home  in  Virginia;  that  his  father 
and  mother  were  both  dead.  The  father  died  first, 
the  mother  but  a  little  more  than  a  year  afterwards. 
He  told  Ola  his  mother's  life  had  been  so  sheltered 

327 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

by  his  father's  love,  was  so  beautifully  pure  and  true, 
that  though  she  lived  in  the  world,  she  never  really 
had  been  part  of  the  world. 

Sin  had  been  to  her,  he  said,  simply  a  word  used 
to  convey  an  idea  of  something  which  caused  many 
people  to  sorrow,  and  for  which  she  also,  in  a  vague 
incomprehensible  way,  grieved.  She  died,  thinking 
her  sea-captain  husband  had  been  as  true  to  her  as 
she  had  been  to  him.  She  died,  believing  her  sons 
as  virtuous  as  her  daughters. 

Blessed  innocence!  Blessed  ignorance!  She 
lived  in  a  Paradise  created  by  her  own  pure  heart, 
and  if  she  did  not  inherit  Heaven  after  death,  at 
least  she  had  had  it  here;  and  not  even  God  him 
self  could  deprive  her  of  that. 

Ola  learned  that  at  his  mother's  request,  and  with 
the  consent  of  the  other  children,  the  family  fortune, 
which  was  small,  had  passed  to  him.  He  never  had 
known  the  want  of  money,  and  he  never  would  know 
it.  He  had  never  been  rich  and  never  would  be,  but 
he  had  enough  for  his  reasonable  wants. 

As  he  sat  beside  her  and  told  her  this  story,  she 
listened,  scarce  speaking  a  word;  and  in  that  hour 
her  love  for  the  man  was  rounded  and  perfected  into 
a  something  which  is  entitled  to  inherit  eternal  life. 
In  that  hour  she  realized  that  he  had  passed  through 
the  fires  of  purification,  and  that  from  this  trial  his 
soul  had  issued  forth,  in  an  even  more  matchless  per 
fection  than  his  body  had  ever  shown.  Disease  had 
wrought  fearful  havoc  in  the  physical  man ;  but  that 
tender,  beautiful,  sympathetic  soul  of  Adrian  Ben- 

328 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

ners  had  emerged  from  the  crucible,  a  pure,  white, 
flawless  gem. 

But  she?  She  was  still  of  and  on  the  earth.  She 
grieved  that  he  was  stricken ;  she  rebelled  against  the 
fate  which  had  dealt  him  this  blow.  With  that  keen 
divination  which  had  always  been  his,  the  Lieutenant 
noticed  that  Ola  was  sorrowful,  and  he  knew  that 
it  was  for  him  she  grieved.  So  he  tried  to  turn  her 
mind  into  happier  channels,  by  asking  her  of  her  child. 

Yes,  the  boy  was  gloriously  beautiful,  both 
in  mind  and  body.  He  was  four  years  old  now.  He 
had  early  shown  an  artistic  tendency  to  sketch  por 
traits,  for  which  she  was  sorry.  She  would  not  care 
to  have  him  an  artist.  Still,  as  he  would  probably  be 
wealthy,  and  thus  could,  if  he  wished,  devote  himself 
to  art  without  thought  of  gain,  it  would  not  so  mucn 
matter.  She  wondered  if  the  Lieutenant  had  noticed 
in  the  boy  the  remarkable  resemblance  to  himself. 

Again  the  man  beside  her  divined  her  thoughts, 
and  he  said,  smiling  at  Ola,  "  I  think  I  shall  have  to 
establish  some  sort  of  secondary  claim  on  the  boy, 
since  he  is  my  namesake.  Do  you  not  think  there  is 
a  look  of  my  old-time  self  in  the  child?" 

"  Yes,  Adrian,  he  is  like  you  in  looks  and  dis 
position.  He  wins  hearts  wherever  he  goes.  Some 
times  I  tremble,  when  I  notice  how  naturally  that 
baby  tongue  takes  to  soft,  sweet  love-talk.  Of  course 
he  hears  a  great  deal  of  that  from  his  father;  but 
there  is,  to  my  keen  eye,  a  shade  of  difference  be 
tween  my  son  and  my  husband.  The  '  Prince  ' — I  beg 

329 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

your  pardon?"  and  she  blushed  as  she  looked  at  the 
Lieutenant. 

"  Don't,  my  dear  girl,  the  word  is  well  chosen. 
You  could  not  have  selected  a  better  one. " 

"  It  is  my  pettest  of  pet  names  for  my  husband. 
One  I  gave  him  in  the  old  days  of  his  serving  and 
waiting.  At  first  I  don't  think  he  liked  it  over-well; 
but  when  he  learned  how  much  it  meant  to  me,  he 
also  grew  fond  of  it.  Oh,  Adrian,  one  can  never  know 
the  beauty  of  that  man's  soul,  the  purity  of  his  life, 
his  devotion  to  his  family  and  friends.  That  there  is 
but  one  woman  in  the  world  for  him,  is  a  fact  so  well 
established  that  fast  women  and  adventuresses  of 
all  kinds  leave  him  unmolested. 

"  His  stenographer  answers  all  letters  from 
women,  except  when  they  relate  to  the  purchase  of 
bonds  or  securities  of  some  kind,  by  a  fixed  rule.  He 
is  instructed  to  say  that  Mr.  York  desires  to  assist, 
as  much  as  is  in  his  power,  all  worthy  women;  but 
that  his  time  is  so  occupied  he  is  obliged  to  refer  these 
matters  to  his  wife.  Some  of  the  women  come  to 
me;  my  maid  knows  the  form  of  Harold's  letters, 
and  after  questioning  the  applicant,  passes  the  letter 
on  to  me.  On  the  back  of  it  I  write  the  address  of  a 
sweet,  bed-ridden  saint.  At  the  home  of  this  woman 
the  applicant  gets  a  small  sum  of  money,  and  her  case 
is  investigated.  Thus,  you  see,  my  husband  refers 
his  charities  to  me,  and  I,  in  turn,  shift  the  trouble 
upon  another. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  lead  a  rather  inexcusably  selfish 
life.  I  have  but  one  consolation — those  of  my  house- 

330 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

hold  love  me;  my  husband  idolizes  me,  and  my  child 
is,  and  always  will  be,  guided  to  the  best  of  my 
abilities. 

"  If  Mr.  York  feels  that  he  must  meet  some  men  at 
any  of  the  hotels  in  the  evening,  we  go  down  in  that 
detestable  carriage  of  ours,  and  I  wait  in  the  parlor 
for  him.  When  he  meets  his  fellow  financiers,  he 
says :  '  Now  gentlemen,  I  can  give  you  just  half  an 
hour.  My  wife  is  in  the  parlor  waiting  for  me,  and 
I  don't  weary  her  patience  for  anything  in  this  world, 
or  the  next,  either. '  I  am  not  worthy  this  adoration ; 
but  may  the  delusion  last  him  while  he  lives,  "  said 
Ola  fervently. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  are,"  said  Lieutenant  Benners. 

At  this  moment  the  "  Prince  "  entered  the  room, 
and  the  Lieutenant  laughingly  appealed  to  him  for 
confirmation  of  the  assertion,  which,  when  the  mat 
ter  was  once  explained,  was  instantly  given.  And 
there  and  then  Harold  York  took  the  Lieutenant 
another  step  into  the  inmost  sanctuary  of  his  heart. 


331 


CHAPTER     XXX. 

Observe  how  well-defined  and  clear-cut  are  the  lines 
in  the  subjective  likeness. 

As  the  years  passed,  the  child  Adrian  day  by  day 
grew  in  strength,  beauty,  vivacity  and  intelligence. 
His  features  were  not  classic,  but  his  form  was  a 
model  for  a  sculptor.  All  his  little  limbs  were  rounded 
to  the  most  matchless  symmetry.  He  was  as  light 
and  active  on  his  feet  as  a  young  fawn,  he  had  never 
been  ill  an  hour  in  his  life;  and,  an  only  child,  sur 
rounded  always  by  the  most  brilliant  people,  he  was 
simply  a  miniature  man.  More  yet,  he  was  a  cour 
tier  and  a  wit.  He  had  not  one  childish  way  about 
him. 

The  boy  was  a  never-ceasing  source  of  study  and 
wonderment  to  his  mother.  Every  spontaneous, 
natural  act. was  like  Lieutenant  Benners.  In  all  the 
child's  deference  to,  and  adoration  for  his  mother,  he 
was  like  the  "  Prince.  "  From  the  first  dawn  of  his 
infantile  intelligence,  his  father  had  made  a  com 
panion  of  him.  As  soon  as  the  baby  could  sit  in  his 
high-chair,  Mr.  York  had  had  his  son  brought  to  the 
family  table.  Of  this  Ola  never  thoroughly  approved 
but  the  "  Prince's  "  food  was  so  simple,  it  would  not 
hurt  a  child  or  anybody  else,  he  declared.  The  baby 

332 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

talked  some  time  before  he  could  walk,  and  nurse  said: 

"  Talk  before  you  go, 
Born  for  trouble  and  woe.  " 

But  the  baby  laughed  his  way  along  and  did  not 
seem  to  mind  this  dismal  prophecy.  The  first  word 
he  ever  said  was  "  spoon,  "  and  it  was  manifest  that 
he  knew  what  object  on  the  breakfast  table  the  word 
"  spoon,  "  indicated.  His  father  was  delighted,  and 
tried  the  child  over  and  over  again;  but  the  baby 
could  not  be  confused.  He  had  that  bit  of  knowledge 
firmly  fixed  and  he  held  on  to  it.  The  "  Prince " 
eagerly  inquired  of  his  wife  how  long  she  thought 
it  would  be  before  he  would  put  words  into  sen 
tences  ? 

"  Some  time,  probably !  "  replied  Ola.  "  He  will 
not  talk  a  great  deal  before  he  is  two  years  old,  and 
he  is  but  a  little  more  than  one,  now." 

The  father  seemed  a  trifle  discouraged  at  the 
prospect  of  such  a  long  wait  before  he  could  talk 
finance  to  his  son.  But  whenever  he  was  in  the 
house,  if  the  child  were  awake,  he  was  constantly 
practicing  with  the  little  fellow.  The  "  Prince's *' 
method  was  principally  object  teaching.  No  matter 
what  the  baby  was  told  to  say,  he  would  attempt  it. 
Then  he  would  laugh,  turn  his  head  a  trifle  to  one 
side  and  look  down  for  an  instant,  at  some  object  on 
the  floor;  then  up  at  his  father  and  mother,  as  if  to 
read  approbation  in  their  eyes ;  then  laugh  softly 
again. 

Already  that  turn  of  the  baby  head,  that  soft, 
333 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

low  laugh,  had  struck  Ola  as  being  so  like  Lieuten 
ant  Benners.  She  had  often  wondered  if  the  "  Prince  " 
had  ever  noticed  the  striking  resemblance  the  child 
bore  to  the  Lieutenant.  He  never  had. 

Ola  once  said,  "  This  child  has  blue  eyes  and 
black  hair;  he  must  be  some  stray  little  waif  changed 
in  his  cradle,  after  the  time-honored  gypsy  fashion. " 

The  father  laughed,  as  he  rubbed  his  hand  softly 
over  the  little  black  head.  "  That  is  quite  a  fair 
division,  darling.  Your  own  beautiful  hair  is  black, 
and  my  eyes  are  blue.  " 

"  But  this  hair  will  never  be  in  the  least  like 
mine;  it  is  coarse  and  stiff  and  rebellious,"  said  the 
mother. 

"Don't  let  that  worry  you,  darling;  he  can  get 
along  without  a  great  deal  of  beauty,  he  is  a  boy; 
and  when  he  comes  to  man's  estate,  he  will  probably 
have  a  dollar  or  two,  "  said  the  "  Prince, "  who  was 
perfectly  satisfied  with  his  son. 

If  perfection  can  have  degrees,  the  mother  was, 
in  Harold  York's  eyes,  a  degree  more  perfect  than 
the  baby;  but  he  was  more  than  content  with  both. 
And  so  the  "  Prince  "  taught  his  son  to  talk.  He  had 
a  bright  pupil  and  his  own  patience  was  endless;  and 
when  the  little  fellow  had  learned  to  talk,  what  a 
chatterbox  he  was.  He  talked  incessantly — to  him 
self,  if  he  couldn't  find  any  one  else  to  talk  to.  But 
he  was  not  favorably  disposed  towards  this  self-com 
munion  ;  he  preferred  to  have  an  audience. 

One  afternoon  the  baby  sat  on  the  broad  arm  of 
a  rocking-chair,  in  which  his  mother  was  sitting;  his 

334 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

little  feet  were  in  her  lap,  and  she  was  giving  his 
father  a  rather  animated  and  earnest  account  of  some 
thing  which  interested  her.  The  child  moved  rest 
lessly  about,  and  finally,  unable  to  endure  the  agony 
any  longer,  he  leaned  forward  and,  putting  his  be- 
dimpled  hand  over  his  mother's  lips,  he  said,  "  Ex 
cuse  me,  Mamma;  but  please  be  still  and  let  me  talk, 
now.  " 

Then  he  rushed  in  and  expressed  his  opinions 
about  the  subject  of  converse. 

The  "  Prince "  could  not  restrain  his  delight. 
So  he  walked  to  the  window  and  while  he  was  look 
ing  out  upon  the  street,  he  laughed  to  his  heart's  con 
tent.  After  the  child  had  finished  his  remarks  the 
father  said,  "  How  fortunate  it  is  that  I  am  a  good 
listener;  otherwise  I  am  afraid  we  would  have  to 
import  a  few. " 

The  child  grew  in  beauty  and  intelligence ;  he  was 
his  father's  companion  and  his  mother's  little  lover. 
As  soon  as  the  boy  could  walk  he  went  out  almost 
daily  with  his  father,  and  the  "Prince"  would  say: 
"  Now,  my  son,  can  you  think  of  anything  Mamma 
would  like?  If  so,  we  must  buy  it  and  take  it  home. 
We  must  always  remember  Mamma;  for  there  is  no 
one  on  all  the  earth  like  her.  " 

No  walk  did  these  two  take,  from  which  they 
did  not,  each  of  them,  bring  Ola  some  trifle.  The 
child  had  the  most  pronounced  opinions  upon  all 
subjects,  but  he  always  spoke  with  the  most  scrupu 
lous  politeness.  In  short,  while  many  of  his  charac- 

335 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

teristics  were  tike  those  of  his  mother,  he  aped,  to 
perfection,  the  courtly  manners  and  worshipful  words 
of  praise  adopted  by  his  father. 

The  "  Prince  "  and  his  wife  had  never  occupied 
the  same  rooms.  All  of  Harold  York's  conduct 
towards  Ola,  while  of  the  tenderest,  most  affectionate 
nature,  was  sufficiently  patrician,  royal  even,  to  justify 
the  title  of  "  Prince, "  by  which  his  wife  always  ad 
dressed  him.  He  frequently  would  send  one  of  the 
servants  to  ask  Ola  if  she  could  receive  him  for  a 
few  moments.  This,  of  course,  if  she  were  engaged 
with  a  dressmaker,  or  not  very  well,  or  if  from  any 
cause  she  might  prefer  not  to  be  disturbed. 

When  little  Adrian  was  not  more  than  five  years 
old  he  also  took  up  this  ceremonious  trick  of  request 
ing  an  interview  with  his  mother.  He  had  seldom 
seen  her  in  a  state  of  even  partial  undress.  One  after 
noon  when  the  boy  was  about  seven  years  old,  he 
rushed  into  his  mother's  apartments.  Ola  was  dress 
ing  for  dinner.  Her  beautiful  black  hair  hung  over  her 
bare  arms  and  shoulders,  and  her  silk  skirt  fell  close 
around  her  limbs.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  the 
child  seemed  conscious  of  the  beauty  of  the  female 
form.  For  a  single  instant  he  stood  transfixed,  his 
red  lips  partly  open  and  his  beautiful  eyes  ablaze. 

"Oh,  Mamma!  Mamma!"  he  cried;  then  ran  up 
to  his  mother,  jumped  lightly  on  a  chair  near  which 
she  stood,  threw  his  little  arms  around  her  and  bend 
ing  his  black  head  down,  he  kissed  her  white  throat 
and  neck,  again  and  again,  first  on  one  side  then  on 
the  other.  Then  he  rubbed  his  little  face  up  against 

336 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

hers  and  exclaimed,  "  You  dear  girl,  you  are  just  as 
sweet  as  you  can  be!" 

Ola  unclasped  the  little  hands  and,  holding  him 
at  arm's  length,  said,  "  My  son,  my  son,  where  did 
you  ever  hear  that  expression?" 

"  What  expression,  Mamma?  " 

"  Do  you  remember  the  words  you  used  to  me 
just  now7  " 

"  Why,  yes !  I  said,  '  You  dear  girl,  you  are  just 
as  sweet  as  you  can  be. '  And  so  you  are.  " 

"Did  you  ever  hear  anybody  say  those  words?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  Is  there  anything  so  very 
remarkable  about  the  sentence,  Mamma?" 

"  No,  dear,  no, "  said  Ola.  But  in  spite  of  all  she 
could  do,  there  was  a  sorrowful  tone  to  the  words, 
"  No,  dear,  no.  " 

"  If  you  don't  like  the  expression,  Mamma,  or 
if  it  makes  you  feel  sad,  you  have  only  to  tell  me  so, 
and  I  will  not  make  use  of  it  again.  "  But  all  this 
time  the  boy  patted  and  kissed  his  mother;  drew  her 
black  hair  over  her  white  breast  and  blew  it  back 
again ;  turned  his  little  head  to  one  side,  looked  at 
her,  then  down  on  the  floor,  and  laughed  that  low, 
rippling,  Adrian  Benners'  laugh,  which  always  car 
ried  Ola  so  far  back  into  the  past. 

She  put  her  arms  around  the  child  and  held  him 
close  to  her  heart.  Sadly  enough  she  said  to  him, 
"  Oh,  my  son,  my  son !  What  kind  of  man  are  you 
going  to  be?  " 

337 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

"I?  Why,  I'm  going  to  be  a  very  prince  of  good 
fellows,  "  said  the  child. 

"  Tell  me  about  it,  dear, "  said  the  mother. 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,  I'm  going  to  have  the 
most  perfect  steam  yacht  that  ever  was  built — " 

"  I  suppose  you  know  that  all  those  luxuries  will 
cost  a  great  deal  of  money,  "  interrupted  the  mother. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  that,"  said  the  child,  noncha 
lantly. 

"  And  where  is  all  this  money  to  come  from, 
pray?" 

"Why,  hasn't  papa  got  a  few  millions?  and  am 
I  not  his  only  child?"  said  Adrian,  as  if  he  could 
scarcely  account  for  his  mother's  senseless  query. 

"  It  is  true  that  papa  is  rich  now,  but  he  might 
not  be  when  you  are  a  man.  When  I  first  knew  papa 
he  was  a  comparatively  poor  man.  " 

"That  may  be ;  but  he  will  never  be  poor  again, '' 
said  the  child,  confidently. 

"How  do  you  know  this?"  said  Ola;  and  she 
wondered  how  the  little  brain  had  arrived  at  this 
confident  and  comforting  conclusion. 

"  He  is  too  conservative  ever  to  lose  his  money, '' 
said  the  boy.  Ola  thought  that  if  she  had  had  her 
eyes  shut,  she  should  have  imagined  herself  to  be 
talking  with  a  man  of  forty ;  and  she  could  not  repress 
a  smile.  She  intended  never  to  let  the  boy  know  she 
was  laughing  at  him.  Both  she  and  her  husband  al 
ways  encouraged  Adrian  to  express  his  opinions  upon 
any  and  all  subjects  with  the  most  perfect  freedom; 
and  he  had  opinions  upon  any  subject  he  had  ever 

338 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

heard  discussed,  from  nebula  to  bonbons.  By  this 
course  of  treatment  the  child  was  about  the  most  con 
ceited  little  piece  of  masculinity  of  seven  years  of 
age,  that  ever  lived. 

"  Explain  to  me  what  you  mean  when  you  say 
your  father  is  too  conservative  ever  to  lose  his 
money?  " 

"  I  will,  Mamma,  but  first  come  over  to  this 
couch  and  let  us  sit  down.  I  fear  I  shall  tire  you 
by  keeping  you  standing  so  long.  " 

When  they  were  seated,  the  child  went  on  to 
say :  "  You  remember,  not  very  long  ago,  I  had  an 
engagement  with  papa  at  his  office  for  three  o'clock. 
It  was  the  time  the  '  Prince  '  " — the  child  frequently 
called  his  father  the  '  Prince  ' — "bought  that  bronze 
Psyche  with  the  wounded  Cupid,  for  you,  and  he 
wanted  to  get  my  opinion  of  it." 

"  You  and  his  Highness  seem  to  be  quite  intimate. 
If  one  were  not  timid  about  applying  such  an  expres 
sion  to  royalty,  one  might  almost  say  you  two  are 
chummy,  "  said  the  mother. 

The  boy  laughed  another  Lieutenant  Benners' 
laugh,  drew  his  mother's  arm  around  his  neck  and 
said  with  an  air  of  nonchalant  importance,  "  It  must 
be  admitted,  that  Papa  and  I  are  not  alone  the  best  of 
friends,  but  I  really  think  he  depends  considerably 
upon  my  judgment,  especially  in  matters  of  art.  Papa 
says  I  was  born  with  an  educated  eye. " 

"  I  am  afraid  your  papa  is  blindly  partial  to  you, 
but  tell  me  why  you  think  him  so  conservative.  " 

"  Very  well ;  as  I  was  saying,  the  appointment 
339 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

was  for  three.  You  know  how  particular  Papa  is 
that  everybody  shall  be  exact  at  a  rendezvous?  Well, 
Monsieur  Chausson" — Monsieur  Chausson  was  the 
child's  professor,  or  rather,  one  of  them,  for  Adrian 
had  several — "  Well,  Monsieur  Chausson  has  a  per 
fect  mania  for  starting  about  half-a-hour  too  soon.  So 
this  day  when  we  got  to  Papa's  office  we  were  com 
pelled  to  wait  a  full  half-hour  for  him  to  come  in. 
In  the  outside  office  I  heard  two  gentlemen  talking. 
One  said,  'Who  is  that  child?' 

"  The  other  answered,    '  That's  York's  son. ' 

"'Hump!'  said  the  first.  'He's  likely  to  be  a 
pretty  rich  man,  is  he  not?  York  must  be  worth  at 
least  a  couple  of  millions  now,  and  he's  making  money 
all  the  time. ' 

" '  If  he  don't  up  and  lose  it  one  of  these  fine 
days.'  Put  in  the  other. 

"'Lose  it?  Not  much.  You  don't  know  York; 
he  is  one  of  the  most  conservative  fellows  on  the 
Street.  He  puts  every  investment  he  makes  under  a 
microscope.  You  bring  him  any  scheme  you  think 
>ou  know  all  about,  and  he  will  ask  you  one-hundred- 
and-fifty  questions  you  can't  answer.  York  will  be 
the  last  man  on  the  Street  to  go  broke. ' 

"  That,  you  see,  Mamma,  is  how  I  came  to  know 
the  care  papa  takes  with  his  business  operations.  For, 
although  the  other  man  said,  '  Just  the  same  he 
might  bite  off  more  than  he  can  chew, '  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  Papa  will  never  lose  his  fortune.  While 
I  should  feel  sorry  for  him,  and  for  you,  if  he  were  to 
become  poor — for  I  don't  know  what  he  would  do, 

340 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

were  he  deprived  of  the  pleasure  of  skimming  the 
cream  off  all  the  earth  for  you — still,  for  myself,  I  do 
not  think  it  would  make  such  a  great  deal  of  dif 
ference.  "  And  the  child  pushed  his  mother's  head 
down  on  the  pillow  of  the  couch,  drew  her  arm  around 
his  neck,  and  fell  again  to  kissing  her. 

"  You  don't  think  it  would  make  such  a  great 
deal  of  difference  to  you?  How  about  that  most  per 
fect  steam  yacht  that  was  ever  built?  "  said  Ola,  look 
ing  fondly  at  her  boy. 

"  Oh,  of  course,  in  the  event  of  being  respectably 
poor,  I  should  have  to  give  up  the  yacht;  but  I  should 
not  allow  that  to  make  me  unhappy.  I  should  get 
Congress  to  give  me  a  commission  in  the  navy,  and  in 
cruising  around,  and  taking  in  all  the  good  things 
that  would  naturally  come  along,  I  think  I  could  get 
through  life  without  much  friction.  " 

Ola  laughed ;  she  could  not  help  it.  And,  gently 
pinching  the  child's  red  lips,  she  said.  "  Oh,  you  dar 
ling  little  reprobate !  You  have  it  all  arranged,  have 
you  not? " 

"  Yes,  I  have  it  all  arranged,  Mamma,  but  not  in 
that  way.  I  do  not  intend  to  allow  myself  to  think 
of  Papa's  losing  his  money.  I  want  to  enjoy  every 
thing  I  can.  I  often  think  I  am  so  glad  I  am  alive. 
I  shall  have  the  yacht,  perfectly  equipped,  and  we  will 
cruise  around  whenever  and  wherever  we  like,  and 
take  lots  of  charming  girls  with  us.  " 

'"  I  see ;  I  see ;  you  have  the  stuff  in  you  of  which 
naval  officers  are  made, "  and  again  there  was  a  tone 
of  sorrow  in  Ola's  voice. 

341 


THAT  MAN  FROM   WALL  STREET 

For  a  wonder,  the  child  seemed  not  to  notice  it, 
but  chatted  gaily  on.  "  I  shall  want  you  and  Papa 
and  Aunt  Nell  and  Uncle  Jack  and  those  charming 
girls  I  spoke  of  before. " 

"  I  infer,  from  the  way  you  speak,  that  you  do  not 
consider  me  and  Aunt  Nell  charming.  " 

"  Oh,  now,  Mamma ;  That's  too  bad !  You  know 
there  is  nobody  on  earth  like  you;  but  then  you  see 
you  are  my  mother,  and  I  suppose  a  fellow  might  be 
excused  for  occasionally  thinking  of  some  other  girl 
than  his  mother.  " 

"  Well,  I  think  I  shall  have  to  acknowledge  that 
you  are  right,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned;  but  how 
about  Aunt  Nell?" 

"Aunt  Nell?  Oh,  she's  serviceable  in  many 
ways.  I  never  shall  forget  how  skillfully  she  ban 
daged  my  ankle  the  time  I  got  that  cruel  wrench  on 
Papa's  yacht.  For  arnica  bandages,  Aunt  Nell  has 
a  most  pronounced  talent;  and  she  can  read  marine 
stories  to  a  fellow  to  perfection.  But,  Mamma,  even 
you  must  admit  that  she  is  getting  a  trifle  passee ;  be 
sides,  she  is  hopelessly  in  love  with  Uncle  Jack ;  and 
such  a  state  of  affairs  as  that  is  apt  to  make  a 
woman  a  wee  bit  uniteresting  to  one  who  is  strictly 
on  the  outside. " 

Laughing  quietly,  and  squeezing  her  boy  to  her 
heart,  Ola  exclaimed,  "  Was  there  ever  such  another 
child  born  into  the  world?" 

How  his  blue  eyes  shone  with  delight  at  the 
praise! — for  he  so  construed  his  mother's  remarks. 
But  he  put  his  hand  over  her  mouth,  and,  while  he 

342 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

kissed  her  cheeks,  first  one  and  then  the  other,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Hush !  You  mustn't  be  a  flatterer,  little 
Mamma. " 

Then  he  went  on  chattering  about  the  things  he 
would  do  on  the  yacht,  when  he  should  have  become 
a  man.  He  ended  by  saying:  "That's  the  way  of  it, 
Mamma.  You  and  Aunt  Nell  and  Uncle  Jack  are 
first,  of  course;  for  a  fellow  must  occasionally  think 
of  the  sprained  ankles  and  the  sober  hours  of  life,  but 
I  shall  surround  myself  with  a  sprinkling  of  the  flip 
pant  and  frivolous,  just  by  way  of  variety.  " 

Her  son's  aptitude  for  worldliness  and  worldly 
pleasures  had  awakened  a  mournful  echo  in  his 
mother's  heart.  She  gently  rubbed  the  rebellious 
black  hair,  and  there  were  tears  in  her  own  eyes  as 
she  looked  into  the  blue  depths  of  those  of  her  son, 
and  said  to  him  with  a  seriousness  she  had  never  used 
with  him  before,  "  Yes,  dear,  even  the  gayest  of 
us  must  occasionally  think  of  the  sober  hours  of  life. 
There  was  once  a  young  man,  handsome,  happy,  be 
loved  of  all.  He  was  as  full  of  the  joy  of  living,  as 
you  are  to-day;  he  was  affectionate  and  sympathetic; 
he  thought  of  being  gay,  to  the  full  extent  that  tem 
perance  would  allow.  When  his  friends  laughed,  he 
laughed  with  them ;  but  when  they  wept,  he  let  them 
weep  alone.  He,  like  you,  intended  to  take,  to  the 
full,  every  joy  life  offered;  and  he  appreciated  the 
flippant  and  frivolous,  if  they  were  pleasant,  more 
than  he  did  the  sincere,  if  they  were  exacting.  In  the 
company  of  his  laughing  friends,  a  great  sorrow  over 
took  him.  His  body,  which  had  been  such  a  joy  to 

343 


THAT  MAN  FROM   WALL  STREET 

him,  was  racked  and  distorted  with  pain,  and  he 
knew  there  was  no  hope  for  him — that  death,  and 
death  alone,  could  relieve  him." 

"  Don't,  Mamma,  don't !  I  know  you  are  talking  of 
Lieutenant  Benners,  and  I  really  cannot  bear  it,  for 
I  love  him  so  much.  It  seems  to  me  I  have  always 
known,  always  loved,  and  always  belonged  to  Lieu 
tenant  Benners.  I  suppose,  Mamma,  it  couldn't  be 
possible  for  a  child  to  have  two  fathers?" 

"  No,  dear,  no.  Why  do  you  ask  such  a  ques 
tion?" 

The  boy  was  silent  for  a  moment;  and  then, 
stroking  his  mother's  hair,  he  went  on,  "  Of  course 
it's  just  as  silly  as  it  possibly  can  be,  but  I  never  can 
feel  that  Lieutenant  Benners  is  not  something  more 
than  a  friend  to  me.  One  day,  when  he  and  I  were 
alone,  he  called  me  his  son;  and  those  words,  from 
him,  made  me  feel  so  happy.  Of  course  it  is 
nothing  very  unusual  for  Papa's  friends  to  call  me 
'  my  son, '  but  when  Lieutenant  Benners  said  '  my 
son/  to  me,  just  as  quick  as  I  could,  I  kissed  him 
for  it.  I  think  if  Lieutenant  Benners  were  not  lame, 
he  and  I  would  be  inseparable. " 

Ola  shook  her  head  sadly;  and  in  answer  to  the 
boy's  inquiring  look,  she  said,  "  I  fear,  my  son,  you 
are  indebted  to  that  very  lameness  for  the  Lieu 
tenant's  love.  " 

At  this  remark  the  child  looked  grieved,  and  his 
mother  consoled  him  as  best  she  might,  by  saying, 
"  Be  thankful,  my  boy,  for  that  which  gives  you  hap 
piness,  and  do  not  question  it  too  closely.  Be 

344 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

thoughtful,  in  every  way  you  can,  for  the  comfort  of 
your  friends.  There  is,  perhaps,  nothing  in  life,  which 
gives  so  much  happiness  as  to  love,  and  especially  to 
love  those  who  need  it. " 

Both  mother  and  child  were  silent  for  a  time; 
the  maid  had  entered  the  room,  lit  the  gas  and  gone 
out  again;  while  Ola,  speaking  to  her  boy,  seemed 
to  continue  the  thought,  for  she  went  on,  "  There 
was  a  time,  my  pet,  when  I  needed  love  and  sympathy 
and  encouragement,  more,  perhaps,  than  any  woman 
ever  needed  it  in  this  world.  In  those  days  the  Fates 
sent  your  princely  father  to  me.  From  the  first  hour 
I  ever  knew  him — in  fact,  long  before  I  had  any 
suspicion  of  the  truth — my  welfare  and  happiness  be 
came  his  charge.  He  revived  my  faith  in  humanity, 
convinced  me  that  all  true  happiness,  and  all  human 
excellence  are  conceived  in  true  love." 

A  slight  noise,  almost  like  a  sob,  attracted  the 
attention  of  Ola  and  the  boy;  and,  turning  towards 
the  place  whence  the  sound  came,  they  saw  the 
"  Prince  "  standing  in  the  door. 

"How  long  have  you  been  eavesdropping?"  said 
Ola,  and  she  confusedly  drew  her  negligee  over  her 
shoulders. 

Adrian,  as  though  he  were  unwilling  to  share, 
even  with  his  father,  the  view  of  his  mother's  beau 
tiful  shoulders,  drew  the  covering  up  close  under  her 
chin,  kissed  her  lips,  then  bounded  lightly  off  the 
couch  and  skipped  away  to  his  father. 

"  Long  enough  to  prove  the  falsity  of  the  old 
adage  that  '  Listeners  never  hear  any  good  of  them- 

345 


selves,' "  and  the  "  Prince  "  started  to  go  to  his  wife. 

But,  tugging  at  his  father's  hand  and  pulling  him 
towards  the  door,  the  child  said,  "  Goodness !  I've 
lain  there  so  long  my  legs  are  stiff.  I'll  take  a  spin 
around  the  block  with  you,  Papa,  and  we  really  must 
let  Mamma  dress.  I  have  kept  her  there  so  long  al 
ready  that  she  will  be  sick  with  a  cold.  Put  on  the 
black  dress,  with  the  "sang-de-boeuf"  ribbons, 
Mamma,  and  I'll  bring  you  some  jack  roses.  I  am 
sorry  you  don't  like  the  fragrance;  but  you'll  wear 
them,  for  my  sake,  won't  you  ?  " 

The  boy  kissed  his  hand  to  his  mother,  and 
forced  his  father  to  accompany  him,  leaving  that 
mother  to  her  bitter-sweet  reflections,  while  she 
donned  the  black  dress,  with  the  "  sang-de-boeuf  "  rib 
bons,  and  fastened  the  garnets  the  "  Prince "  had 
bought  when  they  were  in  France,  around  her  wrists 
and  in  her  black  hair. 

" '  Men  are  only  boys  grown  tall,' "  she  said  to 
herself,  as  she  passed  in  review  all  the  little,  lover-like 
actions  of  her  son.  Only  a  few  more  years,  and  the 
genial,  joyous  temperament  of  the  boy  would  be 
joined  to  the  passion  of  the  man,  and  her  son  would 
go  forth  on  his  mission  of  slaughtering  the  innocent. 
If  no  accident  were  to  befall  the  child,  he  was  destined 
to  do  much  harm,  for  he  was  a  unit  of  dangerous  com 
pounds.  While  he  could  extract  joy  from  it,  Adrian 
would  always  love  and  fondle  that  which  would  give 
him  pleasure.  But  Ola  was  afraid  he  would  never 
watch  his  hour  in  Gethsemane,  even  with  those  he 
loved  most  of  all. 

346 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

The  career  of  Lieutenant  Benners  this  mother 
saw  mapped  out  for  her  own  child.  Everything 
pointed  to  it — his  alarming  popularity,  his  brilliant 
wit,  his  wealth — all  these  would  contribute  toward 
the  constant  heaping  upon  him  of  love.  They  would 
bring  about  the  surrender  of  other  wills  to  his  own. 
With  that  selfishness  which  only  a  mother  can  feel 
Ola  prayed :  "  Since  women  must  be  deceived  and 
wronged  and  deserted,  while  ever  the  world  is  in 
habited  by  the  two  sexes,  let  him  be  what  he  must, 
let  him  be  a  second  Lieutenant  Benners,  but  spare 
my  son,  oh,  God,  the  bitter  draught  at  the  end  of  the 
sweets  which  has  been  forced  upon  the  red  lips  of 
Lieutenant  Benners!" 

The  woman's  mind  was  full  of  gloomy  reflections. 
Could  she  never  outlive  the  past?  Had  Fate  itself 
willed  that  in  her  own  child,  she  must  suffer  eternal 
remorse  of  conscience?  With  her  husband  and  boy 
gone  on  a  mission  of  love  for  her,  this  mother  thought 
of  the  utter  unsatisfactoriness  of  human  life  and  the 
constant  acknowledgment  we  must  make  of  our  own 
frailties. 

The  "  Prince  "  had  centered  his  affections  upon 
her,  and  his  actions  had  furnished  a  perfect  model  of 
a  pure,  affectionate,  self-ignoring  husband.  In  the 
early  days,  when  he  had  learned  to  love  the  ideal  he 
had  of  her,  he  had  consecrated  himself  to  her.  All 
his  love  was  hers ;  all  his  money  was  hers ;  he  worked 
for  her,  lived  for  her,  and  he  was  perfectly  happy 
with  her.  Pure  and  undefiled,  he  walked  through  all. 
The  intrigues  of  women  who  wanted  his  money  had 

347 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

no  effect  on  him;  theirs  were  worse  than  wasted 
efforts.  He  had  never  swerved  one  hair's  breath  from 
his  holy  allegiance  to  her,  and  she  knew  this.  He 
worshiped  her;  thought  her  chaste  as  a  sexless 
angel;  and  she?  '  W'hat  was  she?'  she  asked  herself. 

'  Clay !  the  poorest,  cheapest,  commonest  clay ! 
She  had  never  been  worthy  of  the  '  Prince  '  for  one 
hour.' 

She  did  not  deceive  herself;  she  knew  that  all 
which  protected  her  husband  from  wrong,  all  that 
saved  his  couch  from  defilement,  was  an  accident,  the 
result  of  which  was  the  physical  wreckage  of  Lieu 
tenant  Benners.  Had  the  Lieutenant  returned  to 
America  in  full  strength  and  health,  he  would  have 
clasped  the  "  Prince's  "  hand  cordially,  as  a  brother, 
drunk  his  wine  and  partaken  of  his  hospitality,  at  one 
and  the  same  time  in  which  he  was  calling  forth  that 
part  of  Ola's  nature  which  had  never  responded  to 
any  voice  but  his.  This  she  knew  would  have  hap 
pened  but  for  the  circumstance  which  had  rendered 
it  impossible. 

And  yet  she  did  not  despise  the  Lieutenant.  She 
was  honest  enough  to  acknowledge  that  if  such  con 
duct  in  him  would  have  been  devoid  of  honor,  there 
were  no  words,  in  any  language,  of  sufficient  force  and 
pertinence,  to  describe  her  own  acts.  True,  the 
"  Prince  "  was  the  Lieutenant's  friend,  and  had  felt 
for  the  young  man  almost  the  affection  Jonathan  had 
for  David.  But  what  had  her  husband  been  to  her? 

"  So  goes  the  world, "  she  said.  "  The  holy  and 
undefiled  bring  their  gifts  to  an  altar  polluted  with 

348 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

sensualities.  To  the  extremely-limited  few  are  noble 
actions  possible ;  and  even  then,  they  are  perhaps 
more  attributable  to  characteristics  of  temperament 
which  are  congenital,  rather  than  to  any  growth  in 
virtue.  " 

Her  son  bounded  into  the  room,  followed  by  his 
father. 

"  Oh,  Mamma !  You  are  just  the  dearest  girl ! 
That  is  the  prettiest  dress  you've  got.  You  always 
know  just  what  to  do  to  make  us  happy.  Instinc 
tively  you  have  put  on  your  garnets ;  and  I  have  jack 
roses  and  lilies  of  the  valley,  and  Papa  has  some  of 
the  most  beautiful  long  gold  pins,  with  garnet  heads, 
with  which  to  fasten  those  flowers  on,  that  ever  you 
saw.  Give  me  the  pins,  if  you  please,  Papa,  and  I 
will  see  if  I  can  give  an  artfully  artless  touch  to 
this  decoration  of  the  Princess  of  the  House  of  York. f> 

The  "  Prince  "  gave  his  son  the  pins  and  looked 
on  with  a  pleased  smile  while  the  boy  pulled  one 
blossom  out  here,  pushed  another  in  there,  bent  a 
sprig  of  green  a  little  more  to  the  angle  he  fancied, 
turned  his  little  head  to  one  side,  walked  back  a  few 
steps,  returned  to  his  mother,  made  a  slight  altera 
tion,  looked  at  his  work  in  a  most  approving  fashion, 
kissed  his  mother  rapturously,  stepped  down  from 
the  stool  and  exclaimed,  "  Now,  Papa !  " 

The  "  Prince  "  came  up  to  his  wife.  With  a  smile 
of  the  purest,  most  affectionate  worship  on  his  face, 
he  placed  his  soft,  tender  hands  on  her  cheeks,  pressed 
a  light  kiss  on  her  lips,  and  said,  "  Oh,  my  little 
wife,  how  I  do  love  you !  " 

349 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

And  thus  those  three  of  the  House  of  York  pass 
their  lives.  The  "  Prince  "  is  happy  in  the  possession 
of  the  woman  he  loves.  And  Ola?  Well,  she  loves 
her  husband,  as  she  has  ever  loved  him.  Before 
she  married  him,  she  had  joyed  in  the  thought  that 
one  man  lived  above  the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  and  that 
she,  by  a  miracle  of  good  fortune,  possessed  the  love 
of  that  man.  Nothing  of  the  passion  she  had  always 
felt  for  Lieutenant  Benners  ever  found  place  in  the 
love  she  gave  her  husband.  She  never  wished  things 
were  different;  for  she  knew  that  fierce  passions  are 
allied  to  mania.  If'  the  Fates  had  spared  Lieutenant 
Benners  his  great  sorrow,  and  she  had  known  he  was 
happy  in  a  foreign  land,  she  could  have  asked  nothing 
more  of  Heaven. 


350 


CHAPTER     XXXI. 

We  still  dwell  in  your  midst;  but  here  present  our 
selves  to  you  for  a  last  farewell. 

As  that  worst  of  all  cannibals,  Old  Father  Time, 
devours  his  own  children,  in  the  subjective  and  ob 
jective  worlds  of  the  people  who  have  marched  and 
counter-marched  before  us,  there  is  enacted  tragedy, 
comedy,  burlesque.  To  them  the  pictures  come  and 
go.  For  them  the  curtain  is  rung  up,  and  rung  down. 
Thus  it  is,  and  thus  it  must  be  until  their  hands  are 
folded  in  death.  What  pictures  may  come  to  them 
after  that,  who  shall  dare  to  aver. 

The  "  Banker  "  still  keeps  on  in  the  monotonous 
round  of  his  business;  still  takes  that  nightly  cold 
bath,  rubbing  off  with  a  coarse  towel;  still  flatters 
himself  that  he  looks  young.  But,  were  you  standing 
near  him,  you  could  detect  that  the  bald  spot  on  the 
crown  of  his  head  is  slowly  but  surely  spreading.  He 
notices  that,  too,  but  what  of  it?  Plenty  of  men  are 
bald  at  twenty-five  or  thirty,  he  says,  surely  he  has  a 
right  to  be  at  fifty-five. 

Will  he  marry  again?  Perhaps;  who  can  tell? 
He  often  thinks  of  Ola.  The  "  Banker  "  is  a  Christian, 
— that  has  been  said  before — but  when  he  looks  so 
self-complacently  at  himself,  and  reflects  upon  the 
wealth  with  which  the  "  Prince "  has  endowed  his 
wife,  he  says,  "  These  ambitious  women  may  have 
souls,  but  they  have  no  hearts.  York  could  out-bid 

351 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

me,  that  was  all.  " 

Then  he  reflects,  with  a  truly  Christian  satis 
faction,  that  Ola,  being  an  Atheist,  should  not  be 
grudged  all  that  wealth  can  give  in  this  world,  since 
there  is  a  mighty  uncomfortable  enternity  blocked  out 
for  her.  Please  understand  distinctly — the  Christian 
satisfaction  which  the  "  Banker  "  feels  is  that  Ola  is 
so  happy  in  this  world,  not  that  she  will  be  miserable 
in  the  next.  But  it  is  utterly  useless  to  call  attention 
to  what  gives  the  "  Banker  "  Christian  satisfaction ; 
since  to  be  pleased  at  the  thought  that  her  beautiful 
black  hair  may  be  signed  off  close,  and  cause  a  dread 
fully  unpleasant  odor  to  penetrate  to  the  remotest 
corners  of  Sheol,  while  she  writhes  and  twists  in  agony, 
cannot  be  Christian ;  and  the  "  Banker  "  is  a  Chris 
tian,  he  has  said  to  himself,  and  surely  he  ought  to 
know. 

Well,  he  is  marching  on  to  Heaven;  wish  him 
God-speed. 

The  "  Pirate  "  still  "noses  and  snooks  around  the 
studios ; "  still  grows  richer  and  richer  on  the  mis 
fortunes  of  others;  still  dresses  as  shoddily  as  ever; 
his  face  is  still  blistered  and  blotched  with  salt- 
rheum  ;  he  still  keeps,  day  in  and  day  out,  his  art  ( ?) 
store  on  the  Bowery. 

His  daughters,  when  old  enough,  were  obliged  to 
"  fall  to  "  and  support  themselves.  There  is  one  de 
lusive  dream,  however,  which  the  "  Pirate  "  has  ban 
ished  from  his  mind.  He  has  no  further  wish 
to  marry  a  "  lady."  They  come  too  high  to 
suit  him.  He  never  could  get  over  Will  Fal- 

352 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

Ion's  being  killed  while  owing  his  all  that  money. 
With  big,  ungainly  shoes  covering  his  "  niggery  "  feet, 
with  his  "  kneey "  trousers,  his  "  elbowy "  coats, 
shoddy  new,  or  shiny  old ;  with  his  slatternly,  slovenly 
housekeeper,  steeped  and  saturated  with  the  odors  of 
the  cooking  that  are  wafted  down  the  dark  and  dusty 
stairs  of  his  home  on  the  Bowery,  he  will  live  and 
hoard  the  pennies,  until  his  heirs  put  him  in  a  cheap 
coffin,  cart  him  off  to  his  last  resting  place,  and 
amidst  the  astonishment  they  feel  at  the  fortune  he 
left,  condemn  him  that  he  did  not  leave  more. 

Thus  will  the  unfortunates  upon  whom  he  grew 
rich,  be  avenged. 

Ned  St.  Claire  is  ever  and  ever  the  same  dear, 
good  brother  to  Ola.  Age  adds  a  wrinkle  here  and 
there,  but  that  kind  heart  of  his  will  remain  forever 
young.  No  church  will  ever  canonize  St.  Claire;  but 
if  there  be  a  Book  of  Eternal  Life,  surely  his  name 
is  written  therein.  Surely  the  bright  spirits  on  that 
other  shore,  who  were  once  sorrowing  mortals  here, 
and  whom  he  cheered  as  best  he  could,  will  be  ad 
vised  of  his  release,  and  will  hasten  to  meet  the  boat 
which  bears  him  to  that  happy  country,  that  they  may 
give  their  old  friend  a  most  hearty  welcome  home. 

At  Mr.  York's  elegant  home  Ned  drops  in  when 
ever  he  pleases,  and  is  always  welcome.  This  luxury 
is  for  Ola,  hence  he  is  glad  it  is.  But  if  Ned  should 
one  day  stand  beside  a  coffin  in  which  rested  the  death- 
chilled  body  of  Ola  Del-York,  he  would  say  to  him 
self,  "  Poor  girl !  she  always  called  me  her  brother, 
but—" 

353 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

Then  he  would  go  reverently  away;  and,  as  he 
had  so  often  done  before,  he  would  have  his  dark  hour 
alone.  Throughout  his  life  long  will  he  cheer  and 
comfort  and  encourage  others;  before  death  and 
through  eternity,  may  God  send  some  good  angel  to 
cheer  and  comfort  him. 

Mr.  Cameron  was  transferred  to  another  vessel, 
and  he  is  now  in  foreign  lands.  He  leads  much  the 
same  old  life,  loves  the  ladies  a  little,  in  return  for  the 
good  deal  they  love  him.  Among  his  portable  posses 
sions  there  is  a  package  of  letters  from  a  woman.  Be 
tween  the  folds  of  these  letters  there  slumbers  a  tiny 
water-color  head  of  a  woman.  As  he  looks  at  this  lit 
tle  token  of  the  past,  he  remembers  that  he  stole  it 
from  her  desk.  He  feels  no  remorse  for  this  pecula 
tion.  Submissively  he  says,  "  She  was  the  Jim  Dandy 
girl,  I  tell  you !  and  I  got  dreadfully  broke  up  over  her. 
My,  how  those  heavenly  grey  eyes  of  hers  used  to 
look  at  me!  Ola,  you  were  just  the  cream  of  all  the 
sex,  and  no  mistake;  but  another  fellow's  got  you. 
Well!  Well!  there's  one  consolation;  Benners  didn't 
get  you. " 

The  Captain  of  the  "  Grant "  is  a  great  man.  He 
knows  it,  and  this  greatness  makes  him  as  uncomfort 
able  as  he  makes  other  people.  "  Uneasy  rests  the 
head  that  wears  a  crown, "  and  snubbed,  chilled,  re 
pressed,  is  he  or  she  who  strives  to  hobnob  with 
royalty.  Who  can  blame  royalty  for  getting  even  on 
somebody  for  the  headaches  and  heartaches  that  are 
entailed  with  the  purple?  If,  -in  the  hereafter,  ail 
men — and  all  women,  too — are  captains  in  some  navy, 

354 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

we  will  extend  our  hands  to  the  Captain  of  the 
"  Grant "  in  the  most  perfect  good  fellowship,  and  sit 
down  to  officers'  mess  together. 

Captain  Gordon's  wife  at  last  morphined  herself 
to  death,  and  the  Captain  married  "  Bronze.  "  Poor 
man !  give  him  your  sympathy  and  prayers.  He 
taught  "  Bronze  "  deception,  and  now  the  fear  that 
she  may  decieve  him  has  become  the  bane  of  his  ex 
istence. 

As  the  years  go  on,  "  Bronze  "  is  growing  fat  and 
matronly.  She  takes  this  good  naturedly,  as  she  does 
everything.  She  and  Ola  have  drifted  apart.  They 
speak  and  are  pleasant  when  they  meet,  but  they  are 
not  intimate. 

And  Nell,  sunny-haired,  little  Nell?  She  still 
runs  up  and  down  the  steps  of  the  stations  of  the  ele 
vated  road,  dragging  her  skirts  in  the  mud.  She 
still  does  low-grade  art  works,  and  keeps  the  dealers 
mindful  that  she  is  a  "  business  woman  "  by  remind 
ing  them  to  "  send  check  for  work  done  last  month. " 
She  still  wishes  that  Jack  had  some  practical,  good 
common-sense.  But  since  he  has  not,  and  is  not  likely 
to  have,  she  loves  him  as  he  is.  Ola  and  Nell  are  the 
warmest  and  best  of  friends.  Nell  was  always  the 
"  Prince's "  staunch  ally ;  for  that  perhaps  she  de 
serves  little  credit,  since  he  was  steadfastly  kind  to 
her,  and  never  a  trouble. 

But  that  her  love  for  Ola  never  wavered  an  in 
stant  during  all  the  days  of  Lieutenant  Benners'  reign, 
notwithstanding  that  all  of  Ola's  actions  at  this  time 
were  in  direct  contradiction  to  Nell's  own  principles, 

355 


THAT  MAN  FROM   WALL   STREET 

made  Ola  say  to  her  friend  the  night  they  were  both 
married,  "  Darling,  we  will  never  speak  of  him  again. 
Your  love  has  been  made  precious  beyond  price  to  me, 
for  you  have  taught  me  that  a  good,  pure,  woman  will 
not  hold  herself  aloof  frorn  her  friend,  will  not  walk 
by  on  the  other  side,  through  fear  of  contamination, 
but  will  stand  watching  and  waiting  for  the  hour  when 
a  cup  of  cold  water  given  in  love's  name  shall  revive 
the  dying.  You,  who  are  always  good  and  pure,  have 
not  loved  me  because  of  my  virtues,  but  in  spite  of  my 
sins.  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I'm  the  kind  we  read  of  in  books,  Ola, 
but  seldom  see,  "  said  Nell,  making  a  burlesque  of  this, 
as  of  everything  else.  But  she  wiped  the  tears  out  of 
her  eyes,  and  gave  her  friend  a  good  squeeze  and  a 
hearty  kiss. 

Over  the  House  of  York  Ola  reigns.  She  is  be 
loved  by  her  husband  and  her  friends.  She  has  never 
become  famous.  Among  local  artists  she  is  spoken  of 
as  having  done  some  clever  things.  Art  will  share  the 
homage  due  it  with  none ;  and  Ola  never  gave  such 
undivided  allegiance,  such  concentration,  such  devo 
tion  to  her  work,  as  to  receive  the  desired  crown. 

But  her  husband  bound  himself  to  have  no  other 
gods  before  her,  and  he  has  made  her  rich,  very  rich. 
If  strangers  ask  Harold  York  to  invest  money  in  an 
enterprise  he  answeres,  "  I  am  an  investor  of  the 
money  of  others.  I  make  it  a  rule  not  to  put  my  own 
money  in,  for  I  know  that  self-interest  warps  a  man's 
judgment.  I  must  either  not  handle  any  money  be 
longing  to  others,  or  I  must  keep  all  interest,  other 

356 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

than  a  broker's  commission,  out  of  the  transaction. " 

But  to  Lieutenant  Benners,  Ned  St.  Claire,  or 
Nell  and  Jack,  he  has  been  known  to  say :  "  I  have  no 
money.  My  wife  has  a  little,  and  I  sometimes  give  her 
a  word  or  two  of  advice  as  to  its  investment;  but 
personally,  I  am  not  worth  ten  thousand  dollars." 

And  it  is  true;  he  has  lived  for  her,  worked  for 
her,  centered  all  his  whole  soul  upon  her. 

Ola  once  said  to  him,  "  Are  you  not  afraid  I  may 
skip  to  Canada  with  all  this  money?" 

"  No  darling,  "  he  said,  "  I  am  not  afraid  of  it. 
But  it  would  make  no  difference  if  you  did.  Were  T, 
from  any  cause,  to  lose  you,  I  would  have  little 
enough  use  for  money  after  that." 

How  characteristic  of  the  man  his  answer  was. 
He  was  anxious  to  get  money,  to  get  a  great  deal 
of  it ;  but  only  to  have  Ola  spend  it. 

It  fills  his  soul  with  proud  satisfaction  to  have  his 
wife  the  most  elegant  of  all  who  gather  around  her. 
Their  home  is  ever  open  to  artists,  musicians,  literary 
people;  good  talkers  and  good  thinkers.  And,  intro 
duced  by  Lieutenant  Benners,  who  always  retained  a 
fondness  for  his  brother-officers,  a  plentiful  sprink 
ling  of  naval  officers  are  frequently  intermixed. 

And  so  the  years  go  on. 

Oftentimes  in  the  evening  as  Lieutenant  Benners, 
alone  in  his  rooms,  rests  on  his  couch,  with  his  beau 
tiful  eyes  protected  from  the  glare  of  the  lamp  by  the 
soft,  silken  shade,  a  heavenly  picture  floats  before  him. 

He  is  once  more  an  officer  on  the  "  Grant, "  in 
full  health  and  strength.  His  vessel  is  entering  the 

357 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

harbor  of  New  York,  he  stands  on  the  deck,  and 
a  sharp  wind  is  blowing  in  his  face,  but  he  does  not 
mind  it,  does  not  even  feel  it.  It  is  "  his  night  off, " 
and  as  soon  as  the  boat  touches  the  pier,  he  will  step 
ashore  and  go  "  up  town. "  When  he  turns  the  cor 
ner  of  the  street  in  which  she  lives,  he  will  look  up  at 
the  window  for  the  beacon. 

It  is  burning  brightly,  and  his  heart  warms  within 
him.  What  are  storms  to  him?  It  never  blows  too 
hard  to  keep  him  from  going  ashore,  for  at  the  end 
his  wife  is  watching  for  him.  He  will  ring  the  bell 
when  he  gets  to  the  front  door,  for  she  knows  his 
ring  among  a  thousand.  Then  he  will  open  the  lower 
door  with  his  key,  but  before  he  can  reach  the  mid 
dle  landing  on  the  stairs,  his  beautiful,  rollicking  son 
will  be  clambering  upon  him,  and  chattering  more 
knots  a  minute  than  the  fastest  clipper  ever  made  in 
a  week. 

At  the  hall  door  his  wife  will  meet  him,  and  give 
him  the  welcome  that  only  a  woman  who  loves,  can 
give.  He  will  hold  her  in  his  arms  and  say,  "  You  dear 
girl,  I  am  so  glad  to  get  home!  " 

Then  they  will  go  into  the  parlor,  which  will  be 
strewn  with  tokens  of  her  work  and  study.  An  easel 
is  there,  and  upon  it  rests  a  pastel  of  himself,  done  by 
his  wife.  He  knows  that  when  he  is  absent  she  looks 
upon  it,  her  large  grey-black  eyes  filled  with  a  love 
light,  'as  she  thinks  of  him  and  the  beauty  and  purity 
of  his  soul.  She  rejoices  that  he  loves  her,  and  more 
yet,  that  he  has  never  loved  any  other  woman.  He 
knows  that  when  it  storms  wildly,  she  alternately 

358 


A  STORY  OF  THE  STUDIOS 

watches  her  sleeping  child,  who  is  such  a  picture  in 
the  flesh  of  his  father,  and  presses  her  dark  hair 
against  the  window  pane,  and  in  an  agony  of  soul 
which  needs  an  Omnipotence  for  reliance  and  com 
fort,  she  stultifies  the  conclusions  of  her  reason,  by 
crying  aloud :  "  Bring  him  safely  back  to  me,  oh, 
God !  he  is  all  I  have.  " 

Then  she  will  tell  him  of  the  work  she  has  been 
doing  while  he  has  been  away.  And  almost  before 
they  know  it,  the  evening  has  crawled  deep  into  the 
night.  His  son,  having  stretched  out  his  shapely 
limbs  on  the  couch,  has  fallen  asleep.  His  wife  is 
telling  him  with  what  keen  delight  she  notices  that 
the  child  grows  day  by  day  more  like  him.  Then  he- 
will  say,  "  You  dear  girl !  You  are  such  a  little 
flatterer !  Come  here  and  kiss  your  old  man.  " 

Then  he  will  pull  the  pins  out  of  that  rippling 
black  hair  and  see  it  all  tumble  down.  He  will  un 
fasten  hooks  here  and  there,  and  watch  her  blush  as 
he  kisses  her  white  throat.  She  will  throw  her  arms 
around  his  neck  and  say,  "  Oh,  my  love,  my  love ! 
Have  you  been  true  to  me  since  we  have  been 
separated7  " 

Then  he  will  say,  "  Yes,  dear,  I  have,  and  that  is 
as  true  as  the  truth  ever  was.  " 

And  the  completeness  of  his  joy  with  his  wife 
and  child,  and  the  modest  establishment  which  his 
salary  will  support,  are  not  surpassed,  not  equalled  by 
any  nabob  of  the  earth. 

The  heavenly  picture  vanishes. 

The  clock  on  his  mantle  strikes ;  it  is  midnight. 
359 


THAT  MAN  FROM  WALL  STREET 

The  sleet  and  hail  beat  against  the  window  and 
freeze  on  the  panes.  There  is  a  settled  look  of  sor 
row  in  his  beautiful  eyes,  as,  with  the  aid  of  his  stout 
staff,  he  moves  about  the  room  preparing  to  go  to 
rest.  Everything  is  changed.  Even  his  injunction  to 
do  this  or  that,  that  you  may  live  the  longer,  of  which 
he  was  once  so  fond,  has  lost  its  pertinence  to  him. 
All  the  flowers  of  promise  upon  which  his  vigorous 
manhood  had  counted  to  unfold  into  beauty,  were 
nipped  and  frosted  in  the  bud. 

One  alone,  opened  by  the  light  and  warmth  of 
his  disposition,  bloomed  for  a  brief  hour;  then,  chilled 
by  his  treatment  of  it,  closed  its  leaves  again.  From 
Ola's  love  there  remains  but  her  friendship,  for  which 
he  is  indeed  not  ungrateful. 

THE  END. 


360 


DATE  DUE 


GAYLORD 


PRINTED  IN  U    S 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000269141 


